Sugar on a Grapefruit
by Gabriela Romero
Summary: No one said living in Wammy's House would be the experience of a lifetime, but with Mello and Matt around things might not be so boring after all. Mello, Matt, OC. Matt-centric. Complete. Bonus chapter added!
1. Mello Matt Merry

**Quick info**: The story starts (and is set) on September 2001. Matt, Mello, and Near are eleven and ten years old respectively. Since the story is told in Matt's point of view I will be using his real name, **Mail Jeevas**, to narrate the story. There is a slight possibility that the title of the story will be changed. Any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated.

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**Mello-Matt-Merry**

Three people in the room, and only one of them sat awake. _Sleeping is not allowed,_ read the black board in front of them. Of course, what was the point of detention if people were just going to sleep through it? Mrs. Qazi, the usual detention supervisor, was out dealing with a pair of children that got in a fight earlier today, so she couldn't yell at occupants of the room for breaking her "precious" rules.

Mail Jeevas shifted on his seat, annoyed at his inability to do anything else besides staring at his desk. Anyone would think that the red head was already used to this retched detention, for as of late he's been spending his afternoons in Mrs. Qazi's room. But he had certain issues when dealing with boredom; in fact, he'd never learned how, for he always found himself entertained with the latest piece of gaming technology.

"Come on…" he whispered and glared at the clock. _The god forsaken clock,_ how he would call it, feeling anything but fondness towards the gadget that would supervise the time he spent sitting in his desk.

His attention snapped to the door, and Mrs. Qazi angrily marched into the room. The red head silently smirked to himself as the angry woman gave the other two boys in the room a hearty smack. "You are not to sleep in detention! Thirty more minutes for the both of you. Sleep again and you shall be all afternoon here!" The woman practically barked. Mail noticed how she indulged on the frightened gazes she received from the children. "Pardon my absence; I had to deal with other things," She explained, not that any of them cared, anyways. "Mail Jeevas," Mrs. Qazi called for him as she looked at her roster, "you may go."

Mail gave her a fake smile, and rushed out of the room, stopping midway to sign out from the attendance sheet. Once outside he took a deep breath, as if he'd been suffocating all this time. And with his hands in his pockets proceeded to his dorm, to get his Game Boy Advance, and to meet with his self-proclaimed brother, Mello. On his way to said dorm Mail amused himself by pondering just how much he hated detention. What was the point of it? It's not like students learned their lessons. He smirked and admitted this was a one-sided argument, for _he_ was the one that never learned from his mistakes; playing with his Game Boy Advance during class hours was too sweet of a temptation for him to resist.

The boy turned a corner and finally reached his destination. He entered the room, eyeing Near; his odd roommate, who had developed an uncanny obsession with puzzles. The albino boy lay on the floor coloring a complicated set of patterns. Mail stepped around said boy and made his way to Mello, who was busily glaring at the window, or rather, at the people in the front gardens. "Sup." Mail greeted his friend, curious of what he was doing.

"The Benet children, heirs to Dulces Benet in Spain--makers of the best caramel-coated truffles in all the Mediterranean." Mello explained nonchalantly, motioning to the four children that walked to the main doors. They were accompanied by Roger and another man clad in an equally expensive suit.

"Why are they here?" Mail plastered his face against the window pane in a mocking manner.

Mello glared back at him, "do I look like God to you? How am I supposed to know?" He asked in an impatient tone. "Come on." The boy ordered, and strolled out of the room, kicking Near's color pencils as he walked past the younger boy. Mail sneered and pushed Near's papers aside, in the same condescending manner.

They walked side by side, to Roger's office, where they believed the new visitors were. The red haired boy reached for the door knob but Mello quickly stopped him. "Don't. Let's wait for the kids to come out." And, as expected, the children did walk out of the room, accompanied by Roger and the other tall man.

"Mello, Matt. What a surprise, did you want something?" Roger asked politely, but his eyes weren't on them, he was watching the second man who, without a second glance, made his way to the main hallway and towards the entrance of the orphanage; he was leaving. The old man let out a disappointed sigh and finally faced the boys. "These are Andre, Carmelo, Marco, and Valentina Benet." Roger motioned to the four children who smiled nervously at Mail and Mello. "Your things have been carried down to each of your dormitories, why don't you join Mello and Matt for supper?" The headmaster made it sound like a suggestion, but in reality it was an order. And with that said, he sealed himself back in his office.

The hallway settled to an uncomfortable silence. Mail, after taking a deep, annoyed breath, asked "so who's who?" Which was a sensible enough question, for two of them were twins; he figured the eldest was the tall, overweight boy; and that Valentina was, obviously, the girl.

"I'm Marco! And this is Carmelo--" one of the twins started to explain, but was interrupted by the other.

"We're twins."

"We can figure that much," Mello responded with anything but kindness.

"I'm Andre," said the eldest boy with a heavy Spanish accent. "That's Valentina, but you don't need half a forehead to figure that out. Did the old man say something about supper?"

Mail had to refrain himself from sneering, _the fatty craves for food._ "It's not even time for dinner yet, I wanna play some Tetris," he pushed his auburn hair out of his eyes and turned his back on them, more interested in entertaining himself than on dealing with _these snobby kids_; how he mentally decided to call them.

"No, no, no, wait," Mello grabbed his arm.

Carmelo cut him off, and asked his twin in Spanish, "quieres explorar?"

"Claro!" The other twin answered and together they ran past Mello and Mail and disappeared to the nearest hallway.

Andre glared at the remainders of the hall and weighted his options, and, as if decided on doing something else, he retreated as well--glaring at Mello all the while, as if daring the blond to stop him.

A bored Mail, an exasperated Mello, and a nervous Valentina were left in silence, once again.

"Don't you dare walk away from us," Mello warned the black haired girl.

She looked from Mail to Mello, and slowly answered with a simple "OK."

Somehow, Mello felt surprised, for he expected some sort of resistance. "Oh… well, tell me about Dulces Benet."

"Oh please." Mail sighed in disbelief and stomped his foot. Was this all Mello cared about from the beginning? "Can we talk about candy in the dorm?" The red head didn't even wait for approval; he just turned around and walked out and into another hallway. He stopped every once in a while to make sure that Mello and Valentina were catching up behind him.

On their walk to the dorm Mello would ask questions like: "How does it feel like to own all that candy? Was that why Andre got so fat? How did she learn English? What were they doing in Wammy's House? Were the orphans going to get free candy now?" And such. And although she felt rather baffled, Valentina chatted her answers, but in a different order: "Our uncle lived in Liverpool, so we visited him every summer, and naturally, we had to learn English. We don't _own_ Dulces Benet, not until Andre is 18, at least, and he's always been chubby like that!" She giggled as she said this, but continued: "We are gonna live here because no one wants to take care of us. And nope, we don't have free candy."

Mail, now interested in their conversation, asked amused "your parents don't want to take care of you?" Even Near, who made sure to set aside his colors when the older children came in to the room, looked up and was half bemused by the conversation.

Valentina sat next to Mail in the bed and with a lopsided smile replied, "My parents died a year ago. Andre's godfather was taking care of us," she shrugged "but I think his new wife doesn't like us; I think she suggested sending us away."

"That sucks!" Mello exclaimed as he searched with a certain piece of candy in his "candy drawer."

"Wammy's House isn't a bad place to live, but it _is_ an orphanage, and you have a family." Near explained in his usual irritatingly calm manner, though he was ignored.

"Oh! I don't know your names," the girl giggled in realization, but felt silenced by the looks she received.

Mail, once again, rescued them from the silence; "I'm Matt, that's Mello--" he pointed at Mello, who finally found the candy he was looking for and was nibbling on it. "And that one over there is Near," he finished with a condescending huff.

"Matt, Mello, Near," she repeated. "Matt, Mello, Near… you three have funny names."

"Those aren't our real names," again, Near explained.

"Oh? Then what are your real names!"

"None of your business," Mail quickly answered, although his eyes were focused on Tetris level 8... A few seconds until level 9; this was too easy.

For a while it seemed like there wasn't anything else to be said, or done, for the four children remained quiet. Mello chewing on his candy bar; Mail smashing his thumbs against his Game Boy Advance; Near using an orange color pencil to color over the last section of his patterns; and Valentina sitting on Mail's bed, looking at her feet, obviously lost in thought. They were silent for a while, although the silence didn't last for long as Mello's outburst startled them. As if he'd gotten a brilliant realization, Mello stood up, ravishing on the attention he got from the other occupants of the room. "Valentina."

"Hm?"

"You should be part of our group."

This, in return, made Mail snap away from his game and made him stand up as well. Now, facing Mello, Mail growled, "Say what?" The prospect of adding a _female_ to their _duo_, thus making it a _trio_, did not sound welcoming to the red head.

Mello shrugged, but the reality was that he didn't want to disclose his reasons. He figured Near suspected what he had on mind, for the younger boy didn't even acknowledge the "surprising" change of events. "Why not?" He finally asked.

"Yea Matt, why not?" Valentina also stood up and tried to look intimidating in some degree, but seeing as she was much shorter than the other two boys it didn't seem to work at all.

"Because you're a _girl_." Mail relished on his words. "Girls have smaller brains than boys, that's why."

"Do not!" She was taken aback by his childish response.

"Do too!"

"Do not!" She stomped her foot, and looked at Mello for some sort of back up. She, apparently, felt closer to him, as if they supported the same cause.

"In reality, physically, a female's brain _is_ smaller than a male's brain." They all turned their attention to Near, who finally spoke, after a while of silence.

For the first time today Mail didn't feel so apathetic towards the younger boy. The red head smirked, proud that he had a valid point. Hopefully Mello would take this in consideration and would toss his idea aside.

They all turned to Mello, he smirked haughtily, enjoying the attention. "I don't care who's brain is bigger. It's decided," he sat on his bed, and motioned Valentina to come sit next to him. "You need a nickname." He pointed out.

"Why? I like my name." Valentina sat next to him, eyeing Mail all the while, curious of his reactions.

Mello took his chocolate out of his mouth and broke it in half. He then turned his attention on the girl, "everyone here has one, trust me, it's better if you do."

They all nodded in agreement, and began thinking of all possible names for the Spanish girl. After several minutes of useless suggestions, Mail—considering himself more brilliant than the other two boys in these sorts of things—declared that the name Merry would work very well on her. "You mean I'm merry?" She would ask, thinking that the name had something to do with her personality. Mail just, rather rudely, told her to shut up. Mello agreed on it, as well, and, since she had taken a liking of him, she complied.

So now it was Mello, Matt, and Merry. Although Merry sometimes complained that going in the Matt-Merry-Mello order sounded better, she claimed that it rhymed. But, for obvious reasons, Mello wouldn't allow it; his name had to be first. They never considered Near part of their "group," for he was reserved and lacked several social skills. To them, he was just an outcast (who also happened to be Mello's and Matt's roommate). And even though Mail usually treated Merry with dislike, they managed to get along and, successfully, completed Mello's elaborately designed "pranks."

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**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**


	2. Advanced Placement

I love reviews. I really do.

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**Advance Placement**

Suns are yellow. Mountains green? Or brown? The boy skipped this part. Now, using a black pen, he made squiggles in his sky, to make it look like birds. Mail came back to his mountains, chewing on the brown color pencil. He took a peek at Merry's landscape next to him, and decided to use green, since she'd used brown. He airbrushed the last part of his picture, and once finished he held it up to his face, satisfied. Mail knew he was no genius when it came to the arts, so he made no efforts to excel when his reading teacher ordered them to draw and color a scenario of their latest book. He hastily scribbled his name across the top of the paper and proceeded to hand it to Ms. Hardy.

"Matt, take that paper over there." The young teacher motioned to a set of papers in the corner of her desk.

The red head eyed her, then the papers, but eventually grabbed them and headed back to his desk. _Museum of Natural Science_ was titled the paper with bold letters. He read the subtitles and mentally smirked; they were having a road trip. His eyes scanned through the first page, and he quickly read the details. _5__th__, 6__th__, 7__th__, and 8__th__ graders are invited to attend the Museum of Natural Science on Friday, October 12__th__, from 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM._ He skipped through the rest of the page; he then flipped to the second page and saw the paperwork he had to fill out. A nasty scowl settled on his face once he realized he needed Mrs. Qazi's signature to attend—he was positive the old woman would feel anything but compelled to sign the permission slip, for Mail's conduct has not exactly been "acceptable" lately.

Mail Jeevas looked over at Merry, who was busily coloring silly details to her drawing, as if a stupid picture actually mattered in a high level reading class. He rolled his eyes at her feminine behavior and slammed the road trip papers on top of her picture. She delivered him an exasperated glare and angrily whispered, "What is it?"

"Look!" The older boy pointed at his papers.

The black haired girl raised an eyebrow in confusion, but finally decided to read what was so important to him. "A road trip to a museum? Why would I want to go to a museum?"

He had to retrain the urge to slap his own forehead. "Don't you get it? You'll soon—" but he was interrupted by the bell. They packed their things, and he had to pause to let Merry take her unfinished picture to Ms. Hardy.

She came back to him and huffed "You were saying?"

Mail sighed, and led the way out of the classroom. "Don't you see, Merry? You live in an orphanage now. You gotta take whatever opportunities they give you to go out every once in a while. This is one of those opportunities." She watched him, annoyed, and it wasn't long before they ran into Mello. "Sup," was Mail's usual greeting. He handed the older boy the papers with delight.

"A road trip?" Mello worded with half a smirk. If he were one of those robots with a clear head they could have certainly seen the gears spinning on the inside of his head. Mail knew that Mello was an ambitious and shrewd boy with many plans in mind, but he wasn't the least bit offended for him and Merry to be considered entourages, for he knew that Mello preferred _him_. The blond boy's brows furrowed, "It's in a week, why should we worry about it now?" Mello always had interesting changes of mind.

"But we _are_ going, right?" Mail just wanted to make sure; he honestly couldn't stand the idea of _not_ getting out of Wammy's House every once in a while.

"Yea, yea," responded Mello and waved him off. His current plan of exchanging Near's transcript still fresh in his mind. "Now, Matt, do you know everything you have to do?" The three kids stopped walking at the door of Mello's Anatomy class.

The red head pretended to ignore the question. He knew the layout of Roger's office like the palm of his hand; he's been reprimanded there enough times for him to understand what the inside of the office looked like. There was no need for Mello to be asking such a thing.

Mello quickly realized the same, as well. "Merry is coming with you." He casually instructed.

"Huh?" The shorter girl was snapped away from her reverie at the mention of her name.

"You're joking me, right?" Mail asked bewildered, but he reluctantly accepted the reality, which was that he had to learn to cooperate with her, now that she was part of their "group." "Fine, but if she messes things up it'll be the last time she works with us." Mail didn't hesitate to threaten; he knew Mello wouldn't complain, for he wanted this plan to succeed more than he wanted her connections with a candy company.

"What plan," Merry whined, but the ringing of the bell cut her off. The older boys ignored her and all three parted ways, off to their next class.

For Mail the days seemed to rush by, mostly because he felt worried (and very nervous) of what he had to do in Mello's plan. Named Operation: Near by Mail—not intentionally, of course, for him it was more of a joke, but unfortunately Mello took it seriously—and it simply consisted of stealing Near's official transcript from Roger's office. A stupid idea, in Mail's opinion, since once Roger realizes that the albino boy's transcript is missing he can just print another one out. Mail had a feeling Mello just wanted to compare scores and see how he stood in the race to becoming L's successor.

With a sign Mail grabbed a disposable food tray and eyed the food in front of him. Mr. Parker, the orphanage's chef assistant, took a scoop of the mashed potatoes, a scoop of gravy and ground beef, and with a quick smile rushed him to move out of the food line. He stood by Mello, waiting for Merry to get her meal, and briefly contemplated how unattractive lunch looked. "We should tell Merry to introduce Dulces Benet to the lunch menu," Mail heard Mello murmur beside him; he just rolled his eyes in response.

"Ugh, I hate British food, it gives me a stomach ache," Merry commented on their way to a table, trying her hardest to speak over the loud noise in the dining hall.

"This isn't British food," Mail corrected her. They have always had a wide variety of foods, yet she dared to complain and call it "British food." "Where's Near?" He quickly realized the albino boy wasn't present in the room, and decided it would be a good time to discuss their plans.

"Who knows."

"Can you tell me about this plan, then?" Merry beat him to it.

Mello smirked. He forked his ground beef before replying, "You and Matt will sneak in to Roger's office—you know… go to that back room—and grab Near's official transcript from one of the cabinets. You should also grab any other information you can get out of him." It looked as if it was casual chatter to the blond boy, for he didn't seem nervous or scared at all.

"What's a transcript?" Merry asked, and Mail had to suppress his urge to be a smartass.

"It's a paper with someone's grades and whatnot," Mello quickly explained, saving the black haired girl from Mail's possible verbal assault.

She just huffed and remained quiet while the older boys discussed the plans. "Roger can just print another one out," was Mail's usual argument, but Mello countered "You do know Near's number one, right?" Apparently this was a good enough point. Merry figured it had to do with ego issues. "What does it matter if he's number one?" The ten year old asked innocently. She liked Near; he never made fun of her.

"You wouldn't understand. You're not here because you're smart, you're here because you're rich," Mail answered sourly, but he was speaking the truth.

"He doesn't mean that you are _not_ smart, he's just saying that that's not the _reason_ why you're here," Mello apologized smoothly; it wouldn't do any good to become enemies at this point. He stomped Mail's foot under the table, making him jump slightly from his seat.

Merry pouted and focused on her food, trying to ignore their bickering.

Mello and Mail soon solidified their plans; it was to happen tomorrow. Mello was in charge of distracting Roger. He was supposed to make the old man leave his office—which he seldom did—so that Mail and Merry could sneak inside. Mail, then, had to go to the back room in Roger's office to fetch the papers, while Merry waited by the hallway to see if anyone was coming. It seemed rather dumb going over what they had planned, for it was simple enough. An easy smash and grab, there was no need to complicate things any further.

Lunchtime passed quickly, and the three children went off to their own business.

Throughout his next class Mail tried to imagine every possible situation. He thought of all the bad things that could happen. He even thought about the many ways Merry could mess up; although this entertained him. Mail relaxed, after a while. He amused himself by trying to imagine how Mello came up with this plan, and he concluded it must have been out of sheer boredom. The red head shifted in his seat and tried to zone out Mr. Simmons, who was busily writing about Napoleon's campaign on the black board. French history didn't seem like a priority at the moment. And then, suddenly, Mail got a brilliant idea; what if he tweaked Mello's plans, just a little bit?

The eleven year old shot his hand up in the air, hoping that Mr. Simmons noticed him soon. And as if on cue the stocky man turned around and asked a simple "Yes?"

"Can I go pee?" Was Mail's rushed response. Several classmates laughed, tch, he hadn't expected this.

"You mean _can I go to the restroom?_" Mr. Simmons corrected him with flaring nostrils.

Mail sighed, "Can I go to the restroom?"

"I'm afraid you cannot, Mr. Jeevas. You should have gone during lunch hours. Your loss." The man turned around smugly and returned to the black board.

The boy glared at his back, but waited a moment before shooting his arm up in the air again. Mr. Simmons noticed, and addressed him "Yes, Mr. Jeevas?"

"May I go to the restroom?" He tried to sound calmer now. Maybe his teacher would have a change of heart.

"No."

Again, Mail waited for a few minutes, then raised his hand for the third time. Mr. Simmons turned around again—sensing the boy's arm—and glared at him. "May I go to the restroom? It's an emergency." The red head didn't sound convincing at all. He could hear a few girls giggling to his left.

The historian took a deep breath, nodded his head, and gave him a curt "You may go."

Mail Jeevas jumped from his seat and didn't hesitate to walk out of the room. A victorious smirk found his lips as he left the class. He wasn't planning on going to the bathroom, of course. Instead, he headed towards Roger's office. Once he reached the outside of the office he lingered in front of the door and paced back and forth as he tried to figure out an excuse for entering the office. He glared at the doorknob and finally decided to walk in.

Roger was standing in front of his bookshelf; Mail figured he was in the process of finding a book. The boy coughed, in an attempt to grab Roger's attention. "Mai—Matt," Roger quickly corrected himself with a cough, "What brings you here?"

"Uhh… I think I need classes a little more challenging," Mail improvised. He felt ridiculous, for his classes were challenging enough already, in fact, he was falling behind in his Calculus class.

"Oh…" Roger was speechless for a while. But he quickly recovered and walked to his desk. "Well then let's have a look at the other alternatives," he motioned the red haired boy to come closer and turned his monitor towards him, so that he would be able to see as well.

Again, Mail smirked in victory. This was exactly what he wanted; to have a look at Roger's computer and identify which software he used to manage grades and classes.

"We offer an advanced European History class, or maybe you want a more challenging writing class?" Roger suggested with a patience that was foreign to him.

"Can I see which classes you have available?" The red head asked as he inched closer to the computer. Although his eyes weren't focused on the class names, they were, instead, fixed on the software's name and different functions.

Roger eyed him with suspicion but complied with Mail's demand, after all this was a natural enough request from the boy that stood in third place to becoming L's successor. They looked at the availability of several classes, but there really wasn't a lot to choose from—mostly because Mail already had classes of the highest levels. Before anymore could be done—and once Mail memorized and felt familiar with the software used—the orphan pretended to change his mind. "Um, maybe I'll just stick to what I have for now," he pretended to be disappointed and hoped Roger would buy the act.

Roger seemed troubled, and his suspicion returned. "Are you sure, child? I mean, better classes _do_ look good on anyone."

The red head shook his head and stepped away. "Besides I think Mello would get angry if I switch out of his classes," he waved goodbye and hoped the old man wouldn't remember that Mail and Mello only shared one class. The boy didn't dare to give Roger another look and swiftly walked out of the office and onto the hallway. Mail soon decided not to tell Mello of the change of plans, for he would probably make a big deal about it and delay it; which was what Mail was trying to avoid. He didn't even think about what Merry would think; she wasn't allowed to complain.

The eleven year old turned a corner and with an exasperated sigh entered his Military History class. Maybe thinking about tomorrow would distract him from Mr. Simmons' ranting. He rolled his eyes at the glaring he received from the teacher for being out for so long. But when he reached his desk a devilish smirk settled on his lips. Perhaps he could get revenge on the teacher. Perhaps… it wasn't a bad idea after all.

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**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**


	3. Merry's Cue

**Merry's Cue**

The boy gave a mild kick to the floor; making his swing rise backwards, then fall forward. His auburn hair ruffled as the swing beside him lifted a small gust of wind. He felt at peace just now. This was their activity to relax, so they were not bothered by the other orphans, for everyone knew that Mello and Mail were the self-proclaimed owners of the swings. This time, though, they had another companion; the female counterpart of their group. Mail gave out a silent gasp as he saw Merry jump out of her rising swing; she neatly landed on her feet, but staggered and fell on her knees.

Both boys jumped to her aid, but relaxed as they realized that she was alright. "Now don't get injured, Merry. I don't want to have to postpone this," said Mello while he helped her up.

The Spanish girl dusted herself off, exclaimed a "More!" And rushed back to her swing. She sat, waiting for Mello to take his place behind her, and was once again lifted into the air as Mello began to push her swing.

Mail, too, sat back on his swing, and casually commented, "I'm going to the library. Actually I'll go now." He rose from the swing and left them confused. He decided he shouldn't take too long, otherwise they would probably come looking for him and Mello might deduce what he had on mind. He quickly strolled through the neat, tiled floor of the library and sat himself in front of one of the many computers. He used Google, as always, and looked up a tutorial of how to handle Roger's software. The red head read as fast as he could and tried to memorize the different commands—this wasn't a challenge to him though, for he _was_ a genius when it came to electrical devices—and just as he had predicted, Mello and Merry came walking in to the library, looking for him.

"Sup." Mail rolled his eyes when he realized Merry was trying to imitate his usual greeting. "Hi." He replied curtly.

"What are you doing?" Mello sat next to him and logged in on the other computer.

"Nothing important, really." Mail wanted to make them forget about everything. He momentarily felt amused at himself, having to pull acts all the time.

"Can we do this already?" Merry asked in her usual sheepish manner and sat on Mail's right. She was bored of waiting for the older boys to make decisions; maybe she could go hang out with her older brothers.

Mello laughed and stretched. "I guess I could go find Roger now. Remember you have ten minutes, don't delay and don't get caught," he instructed as he got up, forgetting about the computer. The boy walked away but stopped midway, as if remembering something. He looked at them and asked, "What's our number one rule?"

"I don't know you, you don't know me," Mail and Merry chanted in unison, meaning that they were not to involve any of the other two if one of them was caught.

"Wait, how do we know if he's already with Mr. Roger or not?" Merry asked after Mello left, not yet sure of what to do.

The auburn haired boy just improvised. He logged off of his computer and grabbed her wrist, making her stand. They left the library, side by side, and headed for Roger's office, but this time they didn't take the usual route. Instead, Mail led her through the back hallways, where the staircases were located. He turned his face towards her and said, "Keep your mouth shut." He knew that she was about to ask more questions. The children suddenly stopped walking when they heard Mello and Roger chatting and walking past a hallway perpendicular to theirs. They waited for the old man and the blond boy to walk away, and, once their voices were barely audible, Mail sped up to a silent jog. Merry followed close behind him and they were in Roger's office in no time.

"Merry, you wait outside, let me know if anyone is coming," Matt told her before setting himself in front of Roger's computer. The computer was locked, which was exactly what he had expected it to be. He cracked his knuckles smugly and set to work. A satisfied smirk settled on his mouth once he was able to unlock the computer. Mail clicked his way to Poppy Inc., the software that administrated and manages the students' profiles and names. He expertly hacked through to Near's profile, and sent the files to the printer. He then opened a random girl's profile and was about to type her transcript information onto Near's profile when Merry caught his attention.

She rushed into the room and motioned at her watch-less wrist "Three minutes left, what's taking you so long?"

Mail could tell she was getting scared, but he discarded her worries; he was too lost in his own pride to worry about her. "Get out! Keep watch!" He shooed her and went back to work. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple as he fervently tried to pass the girl's information onto Near's profile. He quickly pressed the _Save Changes_ button and once again sent the file to the printer.

The boy dashed to Roger's printer and grabbed Near's legit and false transcripts. He rushed to the back room in search for the student transcript cabinet. He could hear Merry's whining as she approached the back room. "He's coming!" She tried to grab him and get him to leave the room but he pushed her reaching hands away. He was too lost in his own euphoria to notice her exasperation. Mail took a deep breath once he finally spotted the right folder. After taking Near's official transcript he shoved the false one inside Near's folder and yielded to Merry's grasping.

Merry held his hand and led the way back to Roger's office. But it was too late; Roger was already standing by the door. Mail quickly shoved Near's papers between his pants, that being his last resort in his attempt to not being discovered. He took a quick glance at the computer and almost cursed out loud when he realized he had forgotten to lock the computer—now Roger would figure out what they had done.

"What are you two doing in my office?" The old man asked accusingly. He grabbed the doorknob and closed the door behind him, as if making it clear that they weren't going to leave with ease.

Mail's mind raced. He had no idea what to say. Should he spill the truth? Or improvise a different answer? He opened his mouth and was about to word an excuse when, suddenly, Merry broke down crying. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the Spanish girl's tears unfold.

She rushed towards Roger and gave him a hopeless hug before sobbing "Oh Mr. Roger!" She watched him with teary eyes and continued, "I felt so homesick I just wanted to look for Tio Guillermo's phone number!" And at once Mail had to stop himself from laughing, for he realized that she was just pulling a charade.

"Ms. Benet?" Roger was dumbfounded; he obviously wasn't expecting something like this at all.

"I knew el Sr. Cardona prohibited you from letting us get in contact with Tio Guillermo so I asked Matt if he could help me get his phone number from your computer." Merry spoke very fast, and Mail knew she was doing it in case she said something she wasn't supposed to say in hopes that Roger wouldn't be able to catch up.

"You thought that I wouldn't give you Guillermo's phone number?" Roger asked, bewildered.

The black haired girl just nodded with tears on her eyes. The man huffed with impatience and glared at Mail, who understood at once that he was being addressed. The twelve year old just shrugged and responded in defeat "I told her you'd catch us but she wouldn't let go of the idea," he pretended to have been defeated by Merry's nagging.

"We're so very sorry Mr. Roger! I just want to talk to my uncle…" Merry finally stepped away and looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Can I?" She asked, giving Mail a careful, secret glance.

The old man rubbed his right temple as he made his way to his desk. He sat and eyed his computer with suspicion. "You come to my office—uninvited—and expect me to comply with your request?" Roger asked the children, but decided to do what they wanted when he saw Merry's lip quivering, her eyes ready to shed newly developed tears. "Alright, come here." He motioned her to come closer and, after looking up Merry's information in the computer, dialed a number on his phone.

The girl grasped the phone eagerly and waited in anticipation for someone to answer. Her face lit up and she suddenly started a conversation in Spanish. Mail realized she wasn't pulling an act anymore; the happiness in her face was truly genuine. He shifted his feet and looked at Roger. He felt showered with relief that today the headmaster didn't seem to be in the mood to argue. "Alright honey, wrap it up," the girl spent a few moments chattering away into the phone, but was soon instructed to say her goodbyes and finish the conversation.

She nodded, blew a few kisses into the phone, and gave the phone back to Roger. Merry stepped away from his desk and stood next to Mail. "Thank you, Mr. Roger."

"See? Did that require sneaking in and breaking several rules?" The man challenged them. Mail shrugged and Merry shook her head. "Well the reality is that you _did_ break several rules," he commented casually but his mood seemed to change and he fished around his desk for the referral slips. Once he finally found them Mail knew he was going to have to spend yet another afternoon with Mrs. Qazi... "So the both of you are prohibited from going to the museum on Friday—"

"Roger, no! Not the museum visit!" Mail couldn't control his disappointment. He didn't mind spending his afternoons, bored, with Mrs. Qazi, but he had really been looking forward to the museum visit.

"Don't give me that, Jeevas," Roger used his surname—which he seldom did—so Mail knew that he was now angry. "No matter how many hours of detention you get you always seem to continue breaking school rules. Maybe this will finally teach you respect." He finished filling in the papers and held them up for the children to take them. "You two will stay behind on Friday—do _not_ try breaking any more rules, I _will_ stay here as well—and you'll go to Mrs. Qazi's room from two to four PM." He, then, faced Merry and warned her "Ms. Benet, I hope this will be the first and only time I have to discipline you like this."

Merry felt the spotlight on her, but just gave him a sheepish nod. The children stood there for a few moments, not really knowing what to do. Mail suppressed a sigh and took Merry's hand and led the way out. He breathed deeply once they were in the outside hallway, and for the first time ever offered her a wide, genuine smile. The girl rubbed her eyes in an attempt to dry her fake tears and gave him a lopsided smile in return. He felt thankful for her ability to deal with that situation; she hadn't bailed out on him like he had expected her to do. Maybe Mello didn't make such a bad choice by incorporating her to their group.

Mail and Merry walked in silence to Mello's dorm. Once inside, they saw said boy sitting by the window, looking outside like he routinely did. At first the children were quiet, not really knowing how to explain that nothing went as planned. "Well?" Mello finally asked. Mail Jeevas felt sort of embarrassed when he pulled the papers from under his pants. He reluctantly handed Mello the infamous transcript, and couldn't help himself, so he laughed. The shock of what had happened still lingered on Merry as well so she laughed, too. The both of them let out a long, hearty laugh. Mello eyed them, feeling bewildered. Exactly what was so funny to them? "Why are you laughing?" He asked them accusingly.

After calming down, Mail explained "We can't go to the museum anymore."

"Matt did something different, so Mr. Roger caught us," Merry then proceeded to explain what had happened a little more clearly.

After listening to her story Mello raised a smug eyebrow and asked condescendingly "So that amuses you? Well my plan was fool-proof, shouldn't have changed it—"

"Your plan was pointless," Mail countered casually. Mello shouldn't argue, for he was right.

"My plan didn't involve a two hour detention," oh boy, here we go… the blond and the red head soon began arguing, arguing to prove that one was right and the other was wrong. A pointless argument, honestly, since they already succeeded in stealing the transcript.

Their bickering diminished after a while, and the two boys and the girl then began to examine Near's transcript. They made fun of it, pretending to be amused at his achievements while secretly being in awe at the boy's brilliance. But after a while it was put away, once they were thoroughly satisfied by their deeds. This was when boredom set in, and just as soon they realized—and acknowledged—their boredom, Mail realized how miserable he would feel on the day of the field trip.

He had been too engulfed in the rush of the moment to remember his punishment; this was when he decided he should have stuck to Mello's plan. Now Mello was the only one able to go out of Wammy's House while he and Merry paid for the consequences. Mail Jeevas, for the first time in his life, felt briefly resented at Mello, for he got off the hook easily.

--

Days passed in misery for Mail, since nothing else exiting seemed to happen, so he was constantly reminded of—and dreading—the upcoming Friday. But such day soon arrived, and he was the least exited to even step out of bed. He pretended to be asleep as he took secret peeks at Mello and Near while they dressed for the field trip.

"Matt, wake up, you'll be late," Near said and slightly tapped the red head's shoulder.

"Eff off," Mail growled and rolled to the other side of his bed.

"Let him be, he's not going," Mello informed the young albino. And such was the last bit of conversation he had with his roommates before they left. But it seemed like the world wouldn't let him sulk in peace.

Merry waltzed into his dorm a little after nine in the morning. She giggled her way to his bed and commented to no one in particular, "Matt is still asleep. No way…" She then proceeded to give him a very tacky set of tickles.

"OK! OK, I'm not asleep!" Mail exclaimed annoyed, then sat up to face her. "What do you want?" He didn't feel in the mood for her giggles and other girly manners.

"I have good news and bad news, which do you wanna hear first?" She left his bed and poked her head out the window.

"Good news."

"Since almost everyone is away Mr. Parker made a super special breakfast so hurry up getting ready!" It seemed like she'd said all this in one breath. "And the bad news are that we have detention at two this afternoon," her giggly tone then lowered to a sulk.

Mail glared at her and growled, "I know that. Wait outside so I can change, do'h."

She rolled her eyes and hastily left, not wanting to delay her breakfast any longer. The red head soon joined her, and without further ado both headed to the dining hall. It was deserted, except perhaps for the younger children who weren't allowed to leave to the museum. They'd come late to breakfast, so they had to rush to the lines, hoping that Mr. Parker wouldn't leave them without a breakfast. "Matt and Merry! Why aren't you two in your way to the museum?" Mr. Parker was a friendly man, who also had a thing for memorizing the children's names.

"We decided not to go," Mail shrugged a lie. They grabbed their plates—filled with an ample amount of scrambled eggs, English muffins, and jam—and headed for the farthest table.

"Mello's lucky." Merry's statement made Mail look up at her in surprise. "He got to go; I kinda wanted to go to the museum." She explained.

"I thought you thought it was a foolish visit," he reminded her of her negative attitude towards the whole fieldtrip idea. She shrugged and busied herself with her food. Mail, after giving her a few suspicious glances, began eating, too. She was an interesting character, and she often reminded him of Mello, who always had sudden changes of mind. After that they didn't exchange any more words and just spent the rest of the morning lounging in the dining hall.

For the boy, the next few hours seemed to drag on longer than he would have wanted. He was basically in the company of his shorter friend throughout the day, but they seldom spoke; both were too submerged in their own thoughts to do so. But the time to serve their detention hours arrived, and so they made their way to Mrs. Qazi's classroom. Once they reached the outside of the room, though, they were showered with relief, for they realized that Mrs. Qazi wasn't in her classroom. The door was locked, too. The Spanish girl gave the door a stubborn kick and sat against the wall. Mail joined her and finally decided it was time to address the characters of her previous "charade."

"Merry?"

"Ya?"

"Who's Teeo—" He struggled with the word "Guillermo and Cardona?" He had to give himself some mental props; a lesser being would have forgotten those names easily.

She giggled at his puzzled expression. "_Uncle_ Guillermo is Andre's Godfather," she mention her eldest brother, "And el Sr. Cardona—Mr. Cardona—is the man that brought us here. Do you remember?"

Mail shrugged, "Not his face, but he had a nice tie," and then he laughed.

Merry pursed her lips together in disapproval. She then sighed and tried to explain, "Mr. Cardona is the one that manages our inheritance. He will continue to do so until Andre turns eighteen, cause then Andre will be the owner of Dulces Benet."

"You don't seem to like him."

"I don't! He's mean and a liar and… mean." Her face flushed in accordance to her dislike. "Uncle Guillermo was doing a fine job taking care of us until _he_ had to agree with Aunt Paula to send us away." She crossed her arms and turned away from Mail's curious gaze, in shame. "I hate living away from home." She then laughed spitefully at her own words, "Yea right, home…"

"If it makes you feel better, this has been my home for as long as I can remember," said Mail. He began to poke her forearm in an annoying manner, to lighten her mood.

"No it doesn't." She just slapped his hand away and hastily stood up, after seeing Mrs. Qazi emerging from a perpendicular hallway. Mail did the same, and they waited in silence as the older woman unlocked her room. She offered them some useless apology for being late and ordered them to sit in opposite sides of the room, so that they wouldn't be able to talk to each other.


	4. Kiss Me

**Quick Info:** There is a time skip between chapter #3 and chapter #4, so this chapter isn't set _right after _the previous one. Be prepared for a little bit of romance here! Hehe. I guess I could call this a song-chapter...? It kinda looks like a song fic, and I've incorporated the song _Kiss Me_ by Sixpence None The Richer, hence the name of the chapter, but it's not soooo bad so don't turn away, try to read it instead!. This chapter isn't centered around Matt's P.O.V., so keep an eye out for who's P.O.V. I'm talking about. I really love reviews :3, so please, please review! And enjoy~

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**Kiss Me**

A thick layer of ice covered the pond that adored the children's play yard; ice that was not giving the slightest hint of melting under the meek February sun. The winter breeze was icy and charming at the same time; it was welcomed by some and loathed by others. For example, Near was a boy that cherished winter more than any other season, because it was under these cold circumstances that he felt at his ingenious peek; he could solve any puzzle by just being struck with a cold winter air. Today, he decided, was the day he would solve the latest case Roger had presented him with. So to take advantage of the cold winter morning Near hastily rose from his bed, opened his dorm window—which also happened to be located next to Mello's bed—and set himself on his desk to put his wits to work.

This, of course, triggered a negative chain of reactions.

The auburn haired boy who slept on the bed located in the corner of the room kicked his covers away. He sat up and shivered as a chill went through his very spine. He seemed confused, having not yet awaken entirely, and whispered to no one in particular "I don't want to have a cold shower…" He was too lost in his confusion to notice the situation he was in. Across from him, though, his roommate rose from bed, intent on making a ruckus.

"Goddamn it!" Mello startled the albino boy on the desk. He made his way to the window and slammed the windowpane shut. "Are you mental? It's freezing!" Mello, then, rushed towards the perpetrator and smacked him out of his chair. Just as Near was standing up, ready to counter an insult, their door was slammed open and in strolled a girl in a pink winter outfit.

"Wake up you guys!" She exclaimed in an obnoxious manner, expecting them to turn their attentions to her. The moment she saw Near's situation, though, she ran to his aid. "You jerk! What's wrong with you?"

"Oh shut up. You can't even pronounce 'jerk' right" Mello waved her off in his bad mood. "Matt you dumbshit, what are you doing?" Now the three children turned their attention to the red haired boy, who still, surprisingly, was dazed with sleep. Without thinking it twice they just resolved to laugh at him.

After the noise died down the children resumed their normal—or at least suitable for their personalities—activities. Near went back to his casework without any words and Mello proceeded to find himself a chocolate bar from his "candy drawer." Merry, in change, didn't know what to say. She sat next to Matt, leading him back into the covers and back to his sleep. "Sooo, you coming in to our room in the mornings is the new trend now?" Mello asked with cynicism.

Merry looked down, shamed and speechless. "Never mind," she answered before rolling her eyes and leaving the room.

Mello briefly questioned her behavior but eventually decided to forget about it. He tucked himself back in bed and set himself to recovering much desired sleep.

--

Mail Jeevas ran his fingers through his hair and pondered just how badly he needed a haircut. Unkempt hair was one of his pet peeves so he wasn't about to become like one of the many children in the house that had greasy and messy hair. He pretended to be interested in Mello's rant about school festivities and constantly nodded his head to show the blond leader that he agreed wholly with him about the issue. The truth was that he could care less about seasonal events, for it was always the same protocol, year after year. According to the many posters that covered the orphanage's walls, today was Valentine's Day. February the 14th. The day kids got to have a "romantic" social in the activity center at six o' clock in the afternoon. Truly charming… not.

"Kiss me out of the bearded barley  
Nightly, beside the green, green grass  
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step  
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress."

His attention was drawn to a certain black haired girl that was, along with an elder student, decorating the halls with heart cutouts and Saint Valentine's posters. She was singing a song Mail could swear he had heard on the radio before. Her singing stopped when she saw the two boys approaching, though. Upon sight she rolled her eyes at them and pretended they were an invisible nuisance.

Mello, too, acquired the same ridiculous behavior and made himself specially loud about how much _he thought they should be spending paper resources on instructional handouts instead of __**stupid Valentine's day fliers**_. Mail clamped his hand over his face, partly ashamed of his friend, and turned a corner, dragging Mello to the nearest room. He, once safely inside the room, inquired her behavior, "what's up with Merry?"

Mello wouldn't answer though. The red head looked around in the room and realized they were in the game room. Three kids were already here and he recognized Andre as the one watching a soccer game on the T.V. He almost tripped with a misplaced book while he was trying to follow Mello, who decided to approach the Spanish boy. They sat next to Andre, and Mello waited a moment before talking to him. "Hey," he extended his hand and Mail secretly wondered if Mello, again, just wanted Andre's ties to a candy company.

Andre gave them a silent, suspicious glance before turning back to the T.V. "You are Valentina's friends, right?" The two boys were genuinely surprised that the older boy had actually addressed a word to them, for they always considered him too full of himself for the likes of them.

"Yea," Mail nodded.

The black haired boy shifted in his seat. Mello and Mail waited a while, and upon seeing that Mello was not going to do anything Mail pointed out "She's been in a bad mood lately—erm… today."

Andrew snorted then turned his full attention to them. "And you want me to tell you why?" He asked them with his thick Spanish accent.

"Not really," Mello continued with his ridiculous attitude.

"Yes," Mail corrected him, and he was briefly amazed that he had to assume this role.

"OK geniuses, what's her name?" He was smirking the whole time.

"Merry."

"Valentina."

"Valentina!" Andre corrected them—or rather, barked—loudly. Apparently he wasn't patient enough for them. "She was named after a saint. Do you know which saint I'm talking about?"

"Saint Valentine, obviously," Mello responded. His bad mood had dissolved now that he was engaged in solving Andre's clues.

"And why do you think she—" Andre began to ask but was interrupted by Mail.

"Today's her birthday!" Mail quickly realized, much later than what he had preferred to though. He nudged Mello's shoulder and asked "Did you know?"

Mello shrugged his shoulders and admitted "I had no idea, but it does make sense."

"She's probably angry cause we forgot about it!" The red head exclaimed, not caring if he was displaying a sense of interest towards another person—that was not Mello—alien to his personality. The boy sighed and dusted himself off. He nodded towards Andre and gave him a brief Thank You before leaving the room; Mello, startled, hastily followed him out.

--

Mihael Keehl was too distracted by his plans and thoughts to notice Matt's recent unfriendly manners. When he finally noticed, though, he was tempted to comment the meeting he had last night with Merry, but quickly stopped himself and deduced that, that must be the very reason why Matt was being so indifferent towards him; Matt was jealous.

"Yo Matt, what should we do then?" He tapped Matt's shoulder and felt cold anger run through him when his hand was shrugged away.

"I don't know." The red head replied curtly.

Mihael eyed him with curiosity. How did he find out about the significant moment he and Merry shared last night? And who would have ever thought something so diminutive could upset his best friend to the point that his disapproval could be seen in his actions? Matt was always good at masking his feelings. "I do have an idea, but we'll have to sneak in Roger's office," then, rather reluctantly, he added "again."

"_We_? You mean _I have to sneak in_. It's always me." Matt countered sourly.

The blond boy's nostrils flared. He gave Matt a miserable glare and swiftly asked "Can you tell me what your problem is?"

Matt turned around, avoiding the curious stares of a few passer bys, and answered "Nothing. It's just irritating that I always have to pay for the consequences."

"Well that's because you're the one that gets caught." The blond answered nonchalantly, but secretly hoped that Mat would confess his knowledge of Mihael's feelings towards a certain black haired girl. "Look, I have something on my mind. Are you in or not?" He gave up and disclosed his desire to execute the new plan.

The icy "no" Matt offered felt like a slap to his face. Mihael huffed with impatience—though he was secretly hurt—and did not hesitate to walk away, leaving the red head behind.

Never before in his life had he felt so separated of Matt. They were best friends; self proclaimed brothers; BFFs; the list could go on. And now, because of a silly girl and jealous feelings, they have diminished relations. Yet there he was, as some would say: "adding salt to the wound." Of course Mihael never considered any other alternatives to Matt's behavior other than his and Merry's relationship, for he was too stubborn to admit that his assumptions were wrong. He shoved his hand inside his left pocket to retrieve a piece of chocolate and decided to forget about Matt. For the first time _he_ would be the one breaking the rules—since he didn't have Matt to do it for him anymore—and so the blond made his way to Roger's office.

"Oh kiss me beneath the milky twilight  
Lead me out on the moonlit floor  
Lift your open hand  
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance  
Silver moon's sparkling  
So kiss me."

His eyes snapped to his right as soon as he heard her voice. Merry was carrying a box that appeared to be a little too heavy for her lithe figure, and yet she was singing. He had to admit he enjoyed the flow of the song, and although her voice was pleasant he preferred the song to only be sung by the original singer. He hastily turned a corner to avoid her eyes, for he didn't want her to expect his help in carrying the box; he had much to do to be wasting time helping her decorate the house. With a silent sigh Mihael finally reached the headmaster's office. He couldn't just march in… he needed a distraction. Cursing under his breath, the blond left—partially irritated for coming there for nothing—and at the same time thought of a plan to get Roger out of his office for a hefty amount of time.

--

Valentina Benet found it outrageously ironic that she had to plan and prepare her own birthday party. Outrageous because people _shouldn't plan their own birthday parties_; ironic because she was actually enjoying it, for _she _was the one to choose what she wanted for the celebration. Normally orphans in Wammy's House didn't get birthday parties like hers, but since she practically _owned_ a candy company she could get away with—and afford—such luxuries. Consequently, this brought certain rivalrous and jealous feelings from her, already haughty, roommate, Wen Di. Yet the whole day she was surrounded by the girl's hypocritical presence, since Valentina suddenly became popular for throwing such a "frivolous" party.

The black haired girl was soon interrupted from her thoughts as she was bombarded by questions from her eager classmates. They were decorating the activity center, which was the site of not only the Valentine's Day's social, but also of her birthday party. She—or rather, Dulces Benet—funded most of the decorations and ornaments, so, in response, she had been granted with the leading authority of the festivity. Her brother Andre also had the privilege of bossing people around, for he was the one that pulled the right strings in Dulces Benet to grant Valentina and Wammy's House with the necessary funds.

"I want the speakers to be connected to the intercom of the house!" Valentina pleaded Coach Stuart, the gym teacher that volunteered to help her with decorations.

"I don't know, dear. You gotta ask Roger for that," the older man explained kindly, although he didn't hesitate to walk away from her pleading eyes, not wanting to have to serve as a mediator with Roger.

Valentina crossed her arms in response, but forgot all about the ordeal when she spotted her eldest brother as he wandered aimlessly around the hall; she didn't hesitate to approach him. "Hola Andre."

"Oh hey Valentina, nice job," he complimented her work with the activity center in Spanish. "Where are your friends? The other two musketeers?"

She glared at him and pouted. _They_ forgot all about her birthday! Even after she had built that six-foot long snow Game Boy Advanced for Matt and had baked that chocolate-swirl cake for Mello on their birthdays!

Andre smiled knowingly and stated "You're getting their hopes up."

"What?"

"They both think you're crushing on the other, and I think they became jealous." Andre relished on the dumbfounded expression he received and continued explaining, "Matt's in the game room by himself, playing with his ridiculous video games and Mello's no—" the Spanish boy was cut off by a sudden yelling coming from the outside hallway.

The siblings rushed to the hallway, curious of what was causing such a ruckus. Laughter erupted from the spectators—as well from Valentina and Andre—once the children realized what was really happening. A tall boy, whom Valentina recognized as an eighth grader, was running after three dogs, two of which were chasing Mrs. Qazi, and in turn she was screeching as she tried to get away from the animals. Several children joined in, assuming they were just having innocent fun, and began chasing after the dogs; everyone else just laughed.

Valentina spotted Mello within the crowd and shared a quick glance before he disappeared in the confusion. She was shoved into a wall and felt terrified when she saw Roger making his way to the mess. His face was impassive yet his eyes reflected hot anger. She hastily crawled to her feet and pulled her brother to the nearest classroom. They breathed heavily for a while but once again began to laugh hysterically. After they calmed down they faced each other and just smiled.

"How do you think that happened?" She asked him before taking a peek at the noisy hallway. She could see Roger reprimanding two children, and at the same time trying to order the other children to calm down.

"You know, Mrs. Qazi is highly allergic to dogs," Andre commented.

Valentina turned to him, started. "How do you know?" She asked.

"She told me," the older boy just shrugged. He offered her his hand before leaving but she declined, so he left her alone, to ponder about what he had just told her.

Mello and Matt were jealous of each other? Why should they be jealous? A blush crept to her cheeks once she remembered her hug with Mello in the library last night. Maybe that was it? She giggled at the thought of such an innocent hug causing such a dramatic response from her best friends. How did Matt ever find out? She had no idea. Valentina, then, felt saddened for being so indifferent towards poor Matt and Mello, and decided to forgive them for disregarding her birthday; perhaps they already had a surprise planned out. She got up to her feet and began singing before leaving the classroom and going back to business.

"Kiss me down by the broken tree house  
Swing me upon its hanging tire  
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat  
We'll take the trail marked on your father's map."

--

Seven at night and the hallways were empty. Mail wasn't surprised though, for he expected everyone to be in Merry's birthday party. He felt embarrassed with himself, since everyone else was probably enjoying themselves, and he—who was supposed to be a close friend to Merry—was not even with her. His hand held a black-and-white birthday card that he had hastily made in Photoshop and had printed out at the last moment. Mail sighed and was momentarily tempted to crumple the piece of paper. As he made his way to the activity center he wondered what had happened to Mello, since he hadn't seen the boy at all during the afternoon. The noise of the party could be heard from the outside of the room, and at the last moment Mail hesitated and decided not to enter.

"Now our first request of the night is for the children in Wammy's House." Matt froze on the spot as a loud voice emerged from the intercom. "It says "To Merry, from her friends, the two M's. Happy birthday kiddo,"" said the lively voice in the intercom, and Mail quickly inferred that whoever was talking was a Radio Disc Jockey, as if someone had set a radio on the intercom's microphone. ""The two M's?" I wonder what that means." The DJ laughed. "Here's _Kiss Me_ by Sixpence None The Richer and this is DJ Nelson at Stellar, 93.7." He stopped talking and on cue the dynamic acoustic of the song began playing.

_Kiss me out of the bearded barley  
__Nightly, beside the green, green grass_

Was this the plan Mello had on mind? And if so, how did he do it? Mail shook his questions away and felt grateful that Mello had included him in the message.

_Swing, swing, swing the spinning step  
__You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress_

He mustered enough courage and finally decided to enter. With a heavy intake of breath he grabbed the door handle, pulled it outwards, and walked in.

_Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight  
__Lead me out on the moonlit floor  
__Lift your open hand_

Inside the music felt so much louder, even though they had turned off the main speakers to be able to listen to the music in the intercom. His eyes traveled through the crowd and he spotted the person he was looking for.

_Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance  
__Silver moon's sparkling  
__So kiss me_

The children were eating, drinking, talking, and some were even dancing. Merry, though, had her hands around Mello; she was giving him an affectionate hug.

_Kiss me down by the broken tree house  
__Swing me upon its hanging tire_

His heart sank, yet he felt reluctant having to admit it. The girl spotted him in return, and with a smile on her face she made her way towards him.

_Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat  
__We'll take the trail marked on your father's map_

Mail felt his body freeze when she gave him the hug. After a little while, though, he closed his eyes and hugged her back. Once they let go Mail saw Mello walking towards them with a victorious smirk plastered on his handsome face. "Happy birthday, Merry," said Mail hoarsely. The girl grinned, and without any warning, without any hesitation, gave the two boys a sweet peck on their cheeks.

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**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**


	5. A Friday Vice

**Quick Info: **This chapter has a rather drastic change of mood from the last chapter, and it's a hundred percent Matt-centric. It's set on Spring, 2004, and, like the title implies, on a Friday. I loved all your reviews! Thanks for your support. I eat reviews for dessert, so send more :3.

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**A Friday Vice**

Cobalt irises scanned the dark room, staying alert to the nearby teachers. The teen spotted a skinny woman who he recognized as the Political Science Professor, but decided she wasn't an eminent threat. He shifted on his seat and half-mindedly turned the light of his Game Boy Advance SP off. A chill ran through his very spine when the girl sitting next to him inched closer to him and whispered into his ear, "Matt turn that off." He ignored her, of course. More out of spite, though, for he had already began to ponder turning his handheld video game off. But it was as if her order made him change his mind, just to contradict her. She nudged him this time, making his annoyed eyes turn to the screen in front of them.

Today, everyone in Wammy's House was required to attend a slideshow presentation about drugs. It was basically about why drugs should be avoided and condemned. Really interesting stuff… Not to Mail, of course. He considered himself educated enough to know about these sorts of things, so he could be the least bit interested about the issue. Numerous chairs had been aligned in rows and columns in the activity center with an overhead projector in the back. The room was dark, with the exemption of the widescreen in front of them. Mail stared at the screen for a little while, zoning out the corporative representative of the company that was presenting the "informative slideshow." He stretched his mouth wide open and held his tongue out, in disgust. The boy heard Merry giggle quietly at his mockery and he soon joined her with a silent laugh.

Mail Jeevas noticed that the skinny woman had finally ceased her patrol of the activity center and had settled in a chair that was close to the front of the room. He, then, relaxed, and without giving it a second thought laid his head and torso on Merry's lap. He felt her squiggle under him and decided to turn the light of his portable console back on, ready to start playing once again. The red head expected her to protest about him playing, but, as soon as she began messing with his abundant hair, realized that she enjoyed having him there, and wasn't about to push him away. He gently rubbed his tired eyes with his right hand after moving his shoulders to settle in a more comfortable position on her lap. For him, lying down like this was an incidental occurrence now; he didn't mind her, and she didn't mind him.

"Where's Mello," the thirteen-year-old girl asked with a quick whisper after a while. He let out a half chuckle, for he was actually wondering when she was finally going to ask for the whereabouts of their best friend.

"Ssh, you'll see soon enough." He shushed her—decided that his answer was rather ironic—and could already imagine her rolling her eyes at his response. "Tell me all about the slideshow presentation when we get out of here though; I'm sure they're going to ask us questions about this later on," the red haired teenager told her, and just as he finished whispering to her he realized he should not have said anything at all; he was pushing her patience. Mail felt her move above him and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for her to push him away from her lap; angry at his careless attitude towards her charity. The retaliation never came though, and Mail made a mental note to keep his mouth shut throughout the presentation.

Time seemed to rush by for Mail, since he was busily entertained with _Super Mario Advance 4_ during the entire presentation. His thin lips formed a disgusted snarl when his black haired friend snatched his console away. He rose from his laying position to face her, but soon realized that she had quickly tucked the video game away right before a curious, passerby teacher laid an eye on it. She whispered something to him—he was too busy trying to register his surroundings to listen to what she had said—and as if on cue the lights were turned on, making his face grimace with discomfort, and the children began standing from their chairs. He realized that the slideshow presentation was finally over, and didn't hesitate to rise from his chair and stretch his hands up in the air. Merry brought one of his hands down and handed him his handheld console. He just shrugged and offered her an embarrassed smile in response; as a "sorry" and a "thanks."

They waited for most of the children to leave the activity center before rushing out, avoiding suspicious glances from the many teachers on their way out. The halls were crowded as the children made their ways hither and thither. From the windows Mail could see dark clouds adorning the sky and a sunken feeling crept into him, for he hated spending his Friday afternoons locked up in the house. His fists clenched but quickly uncurled back to normal as the girl that was walking with him noticed. The teen glared at her questioning smile and set his sight towards anything but her. He felt her hand grab his in an empathetic manner and his disposition changed in response; he always found it hard to stay angry with her for too long. "Matt?" His darkened eyes turned to her, acknowledging her question. Mail shook his head slightly, making her drop the subject.

They walked in silence; fingers intertwined, to the dorms, and ran into Mello outside of their bedroom. Mello ignored him, and Mail knew he didn't need any further explanation; he already knew exactly why Mello was absent all throughout the morning. The blond gave Merry a toothless smile and hastily entered his bedroom. "Where were you this morning, Mello?" Merry finally asked.

Still avoiding their glances, Mello answered their question, but neither could understand what he had said. Merry, finally grasping his predicament, approached him, and grabbed his face, making him look at her directly in the eyes. Mello yelped an "ow!" in response, and with a wide smirk Merry turned her questioning eyes to Mail.

"He had an appointment with the dentist," the red head choked a laugh; he shrugged and continued explaining "Six cavities, all spread everywhere in his mouth, isn't that right Mello?"

The teen just huffed and fished around under his mattress until he found what he was looking for; a chocolate bar. Merry snatched the snack away before exclaiming, "I bet you're not even allowed to eat anything yet!" Her victory was brief though, for Mello snatched it right back and hastily unwrapped it and shoved the chocolate into his mouth before neither could do anything. "I guess you're not about to learn your lesson anytime soon then…" She commented in defeat. Mello responded something and somehow the boy and the girl were able to start arguing, even though Mello's mouth was half numb to be able to word anything properly. Mail ignored them, though, and didn't hesitate to lie on his bed and play one of his many video games.

The teen's bickering finally stopped after a while and Merry left the two boys alone to their business. Mello was in a terrible mood, so Mail didn't even think to approach him. The fourteen-year-old teenager, though, assumed that his video games would take him away and keep him entertained. How very wrong he was. Several times he shifted in his bed, restless, and decided he would have to find something else to do. Friday afternoons in Wammy's House were both dull and boring. Especially when it was raining outside; especially when Mello had a toothache and Merry was spending the afternoon by herself, as her own private time; especially when Near's scores were too up high to try to surpass him. His senseless pondering angered him, and without being able to stop himself Mail threw his console across the room in pure irritation.

Mail's outburst startled Mello, and the boy said something that sounded a lot like "What the hell is your problem?"

The red head immediately regretted his fiery display of frustration and rushed towards his video game, to ensure that it was still working. He glared at the electronic device before letting it slip on top of his bed. "I'm going outside," he announced, not caring if Mello actually heard him or not. On his way out Mail heard the older boy yell after him "bat ids facking daining!" The red head just smirked.

Heavy droplets of rain hugged the windows' glass and trailed downwards. He watched the water for a little while and without noticing his thoughts traveled to just how much he hated Wammy's House. He didn't care about the scores or L anymore. Everything seemed far away, like a simple childhood fantasy; to get smarter, replace L, and then be able to leave the orphanage—to make something of his life. But the truth was that no matter how much he tried he was not about to beat Near; and, unlike Mello, he was not reluctant to admit it. He just wanted out. Mail breathed deeply, opened the door, and stepped outside, towards the rain. In a matter of seconds his thick hair was soaked; his baggy clothes clung to him; and he almost regretted coming out to the icy rain.

With hands in his pockets, head slumped downwards, and eyes facing the ground, Mail walked as far as his legs would take him. He opened the front gates and slipped outside, not caring if he was allowed to walk out or not. His legs took him to a nearby plaza, where he found solitude. There, he wondered what his life would be like after he grew up; he was sure Wammy's House was only for children, not for failure adults, like he pictured himself to be in the near future. Mail heard the splashing of water not far from him and quickly turned his head to the source of the noise. Several teenagers much older than him were shoving each other around a puddle of water, smiling all the while, and soon enough spotted him. His natural shyness took the best of him when they addressed him, but their genuine charisma enchanted him and he soon felt like part of them.

"Sooo you're one of them Wammy kids, huh?" One of the younger boys—though not as young as him—asked.

Mail nodded before replying "yes, and I'm—" but he stopped himself before explaining any further, noting that this gang of teenagers did not care about L or scores.

"You're what?" A tall boy who he believed was named Taylor asked.

"Nothing," he answered, and indeed, the other boys dropped the subject. They had a brief conversation, and Mail learned that they lived in a nearby neighborhood. That their leader was a little over nineteen years old and worked selling auto parts with his father. That all five of them were addicted to cigarettes, but never encountered any problem getting the cigars, for their leader felt more than compelled to buy the packages for his mates. That there was a pretty blond girl from across the grocery store that three of them were deeply infatuated with. And most importantly, he learned that to them, he wasn't just a smartass, an outcast; he was a friend.

Mail soon parted ways with them, leaving back to his home, but they encouraged him to come back next Friday, when they would be waiting for him at the same town plaza. The second Friday, though, was when he truly felt integrated to their group; Alexander, their leader, then offered him a cigarette.

The teen did not accept the offer; but he did not reject it either. He held the small two-colored stick between his fingers. His blue eyes looked up at the other teens, who were much taller than he was, and received encouraging glances. It didn't take his mind long to ponder; he knew smoking was not the best thing anyone could do, but he wanted to fit in. The one advantage of being in Wammy's House was that everyone was allowed their individuality, but as he began growing up he found himself wanting to belong to something. Mello and Merry provided him with a sense of belonging that he usually did not get, though it felt as if it was not enough for him.

Mail Jeevas set the nicotine-filled stick in between his thin lips, and still holding it between his fingers inched closer to Alexander's lighter. "What now?" He asked with a sense of naiveté once it had been lit.

"Inhale it." One of the boys nodded with arched eyebrows.

The red haired boy did so, feeling a sour, burning sensation traveling through his windpipe and through his lungs. He exhaled with a loud, hoarse cough. One of the older teens grabbed his arm to support his coughing impulses, and as soon as his urges diminished, the group of teenagers laughed, as if welcoming him to the ride.

"How do you feel?" Someone else asked, and all Mail could do was shake his head, his eyes bloodshot and burning with tears, and his throat sore from the experience. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it, and once you do it'll always be a smooth feeling," the teen struggled with his words, but Mail was convinced. The boy took another drag, only this time he was careful, afraid of having to go through the same pain as before. He was surprised, though, as he felt the burning feeling diminishing, and by the third drag he felt his mind clearing; he was relaxed. Just now, at this very moment, he didn't care about coming back to Wammy's House; he didn't care that Mello and Near were above him in the line to becoming L's successor; he didn't care if Merry liked Mello more than she liked him; he didn't care if he was caught smoking a cigarette in the middle of the town plaza with a group of delinquents.

Much to his advantage and—ironically—disadvantage Mail was never caught. His Friday afternoons at the town plaza continued, each time he would smoke two, three, four cigarettes at a time, and so began his addiction to nicotine developed. All thanks to a rainy Friday, Alexander, and his gang of friends.

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**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**


	6. The Back Garden

**Quick Info: **Is everybody ready for some fluff? I think it's about time! Actually by using the term "fluff" I'm exagerating--expect romance at the end (although it's considerably slight compared to some other fanfictions...). This chapter is set a few months after the previous chapter. It's summer, they're teens, love's in the air--not entirely--and some conflicts between the boys are resolved. Review your thoughts! "Too mushy?" "Too bland?" Enjoy!

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**The Back Garden**

Money, money, money; he needed money. Now why did he not get an allowance again? If L and Watari were wealthy enough to buy him all the video games his little heart could ever desire, why did they not give the children of Wammy's House an allowance? He searched all the drawers in his room, under the bed and under the mattress, he even checked around Near's desk, and could not find a single coin. A bitter realization hit him and he had to stop himself for a second. Mail looked at his hands in helplessness and a sour laugh graced his throat. Perhaps if he wasn't such a nicotine addict … but countless times he found himself in the same predicament. Of course he could always wait for Friday, when Alexander would treat his gang to a pack of cigarettes, but Mail could not wait for so long. He _craved_ the substance.

The teenager let out a defeated sigh while he fingered the cigar that lay on his left pocket. His last cigarette, the nicotine-supplement that was supposed to satisfy his cravings for the next few days, was at his hand's reach, about to be consumed away … Mail was temporarily tempted to steal Mello's chocolate money, but shook the thought away; he was not about to commit the same mistake twice. He strolled out of the room and decided to go to the back garden, hoping to just give in to the temptation of smoking.

The moment he stepped outside Mail felt the sharp contrast between the cold building and the hot, summer temperature. His cobalt eyes were temporarily blinded by the scorching sun, yet his skin welcomed the warm touch of the atmosphere. He stood in front of the door for a while, basking in the sunlight, but eventually departed towards the back garden, eager to arrive.

Worn-out sneakers rendered the few, fallen leaves into crumbs as they made their way from the pavement trail towards the grass. He found himself in his favorite place of the orphanage; the garden behind Wammy's House. People seldom visited the place—even the gardener decidedly ignored to trim and pamper the plants in this area—so it was easy for him to find the solitude and privacy he needed to smoke. His feet took him to an enclosed area, right where a cement bench stood, and his hand pushed the dust and leaves away before allowing his body to settle on top of it. Mail reached under the seat for a lighter he had hid several weeks ago and did not hesitate before lighting his cigar, bringing it up to his mouth, and taking in a desperate drag. Consequently, the tension in his muscles lightened and the worry of anyone seeing him in such a disposition diminished.

For a while he watched the clouds move and the wind blow through the trees, with one hand holding his cigar and the other covering his forehead, making a hovering shadow over his blue eyes. The teenager, though, was too relaxed; too consumed in the setting he had created, to notice the crumbling of leaves against the pavement not far from him. His lazy eyes eventually traveled to the source of the noise and it took a while for his clouded senses to register his predicament. Merry stood next to a hedge, holding a pair of flamboyant sunglasses in one hand and a small, decorated piece of paper in the other. The smile that had been on her lips was washed away and her eyes delivered a disappointed glare at the stick that rested between his middle and index finger. "Matt," she said before turning on her heel, leaving him alone, to his cigarette.

Mail, sort of startled by her sudden disappearance, was unable to react right away. He sluggishly looked at the cigarette in his hand, not wanting to throw it away any sooner than he should, and finally decided to go after her. The red head took one long, final drag before hiding the cigar under the bench. Grunting all the while, Mail rose from his sitting position and departed towards the building. Now that he had descended to reality, worry started to creep into him; Merry knew. He had the inkling that Mello somehow already knew, or had an idea, of his addiction, but Merry was a whole different story.

Goosebumps appeared all over his uncovered arms as he stepped inside the house, where he was engulfed with the cold, air-conditioned air. Once inside he had to stop himself for a second to ponder of all the possible places she could be, for he hated to waste his time pacing around the orphanage. Anger began to build up within him after he searched her dorm, his dorm, the game room, the dining room, and even the clinic, yet he was still unable to find her. Eventually, though, his feet took him to the back of the library, where endless amounts of books were piled up in messy piles all around the place.

Mail Jeevas, upon seeing Merry and Mello in a quiet corner of the library, felt as if his heart had traveled all the way up to his Adam's apple. His body stopped, and he was unable to even approach them; Merry was lying next to Mello on the couch, having her wavy hair petted by said boy in a comforting manner while she trusted him with her worries. He knew she was sharing her knowledge of his addiction; he knew she was expressing her disapproval; and he knew that by having her in such a disposition, Merry was taking a step closer to Mello and a step farther away from him. His eyes narrowed as he imaged his best friend enjoying being her comforter, keeping her close to him, and decided to leave them to their business. Angered by his jealousy, Mail noiselessly turned around and left the library, mentally cursing himself all the while.

For the rest of the afternoon Mail lingered in the game room, playing with one of his favorite PlayStation 2 games. He wasn't focused on the video game though, for his mind and thoughts wandered on all the situations—that he thought possible—that would happen after her discovery. The red head wondered if Merry and Mello—well scratch that, Mail knew for a fact that Mello wouldn't snitch—were planning to tell on him; he wondered what Roger's reaction would be—locking him up forever, no doubt—after he finds out; he even wondered if L or Watari were going to get involved in any way. His restless pondering lasted for a long while, until the teenager finally decided that taking a walk would be the best remedy at this point.

Outside, a starless sky adorned the night. Now that darkness had settled, chilly winds replaced the warm, summer air from earlier, but Mail was too accustomed to the changes of temperature to give much notice. The boy cursed under his breath when he felt a need to smoke a cigarette; the very same craving that got him into this predicament in the first place. He made his way to the play yard and sat on the merry-go-round; the teen let out a bittersweet chuckle when he made the ironic mention of the name Merry. He sat there for a while, but after making a few turns on it he discovered that his solitude had been interrupted by a teenager's presence. His feet stopped the merry-go-round and his eyes were fixed on the blond haired boy that approached him.

Mello, after setting his gaze on Mail's blue eyes in return, sat next to him and only the squeaking of the merry-go-round and the sound of the wind blowing could be heard during the seconds that followed. "You're an idiot." Mello's harsh voice shattered the silence, but Mail wasn't surprised; he was expecting anything but kindness.

"I know," Mail admitted hoarsely.

"You were smoking?" This was made more of a statement rather than a question.

"Yes." Why should he deny something so obvious?

Mello's anger finally surfaced, making him jump on his seat. The boys glared at each other for a while, until Mello was able to calm down once again, although he did not say anything, giving Mail a cue to speak. "You enjoyed it, right? Having Merry all over you?"

The blond lifted his face towards the sky and let out a loud, condescending laugh before answering, "Actually I did." He looked at Mail for any type of reaction, but the red head was just too good at hiding his jealousy. Mello growled before finally adding, "You've upset her. Damn it Matt, I thought you were clever enough to hide your stupid smoking self from her."

"Whatever; you won, I lost." Mail admitted in defeat and turned away, hurt and annoyed at Mello, at Merry, and at himself. The tension lifted, and it was as if by just admitting his submission to Mello they were best friends once again. They were silent for a while, until Mail finally decided to ask, in a more serious tone "Do you like Merry?"

"Yea, I do," Mello answered him, with hands in his pockets and eyes gazing at the cloudy sky. "Do you like Merry?" Mello, then, repeated and directed the question back to him.

"Mhm."

"You can have her, then."

Mail turned to him, bewildered at the nonchalant attitude Mello was able to attain. "What?" He stopped himself from sounding too shocked; he didn't want his affection towards her to seem too obvious.

"I meant exactly what I said; I can't be worrying about girls if I'm going to be working my way up the ladder. She'll be a distraction, so she can be _your_ distraction. Besides, she likes you more than she likes me." Mello looked at him with half a smirk, and Mail was momentarily impressed by his mature outlook on the situation. "Just have a look at this." The blond handed him a piece of paper that seemed oddly familiar to Mail. He took it and fingered the surface of the paper before remembering that this was the decorated piece of paper Merry was holding when she discovered him smoking earlier today. He quickly unfolded it and his eyes traveled through her curly handwriting.

"_Matt, don't laugh at this note and read  
__it before you throw it away!  
__I really wanna talk to you about something  
__that's been bothering me for a while.  
__I don't have a lot of time left so  
__I wanted you to know that I really,  
__really like you.  
__I know I sound sorta stupid but  
__it's not like I can control what I feel.  
__~Te quiero mucho, Merry."_

The teenager felt his heart beat quicken with every word he took in, for he read slowly, afraid that in his anticipation he might confuse her words. It took him a while to take his eyes away from the paper, but when he did he felt a hot blush travel through his face in response at the smirk Mello had plastered on his lips. "Is this really from her?" Mail asked, unable to believe the situation.

"Yep, she was going to give it to you when you were smoking your ridiculous cigar. That's how she knew where to find you; I told her."

Mail, though, was clever enough to discover the plot behind his confession. "You asshole, you knew all along that she was going to find me smoking. You _sent_ her to me."

It was hard to believe the victorious look on Mello's face. He turned away from Mail's questioning eyes and responded, "She had to find out eventually. I knew you weren't going to tell her yourself. Maybe this will make you want to quit."

Now it was Mail's turn to laugh. He was surprised that Mello actually considered his little arrangement to work. It did effectively make him feel miserable for being caught in the act, but it was not about to make him quit, even if just now he had a trifling need to be able to inhale a certain tobacco product … Their conversation ended, and the two boys just sat on the merry-go-round, Mello with a satisfied smirk and Mail feeling amazed. The red head had imagined the worst case scenarios all along, when maybe things were not going to turn out so horribly after all. His eyes lingered on the pink piece of paper and a strong affection surfaced from within him; Merry liked _him._ Not a brotherly type of like, or a best friend type of like. _She really liked him_. He frowned upon the thought of facing her crossed his mind though, for how was he expected to react around her after this?

Mello's rising from the merry-go-round interrupted his reverie and the teen had to look up at his friend. "Come on, the BGKA is going to be tomorrow and you haven't prepared for it at all," Mello offered him a hand up as he mentioned the BGKA, the Biannual General Knowledge Assessment, which was used to determined the children's scores and general knowledge. Mail let out an exasperated sigh before following him inside. This was exactly what he needed for now; books and dictionaries.

The next morning was mostly consisted of disorder and protocol at the same time. The whole testing environment was designed with a strict protocol, so that the children's results were the least biased as possible. But since this very assessment determined each single student's rank and score—thing that apparently was of high importance within the orphanage—everyone, of course, was panicked about the test, thus making the morning a disorder. It was debatable, though, whether or not Mail Jeevas was actually concerned about the exam. He spent the past evening studying with Mello, but since both of their scores were so much more up high than any other student in Wammy's House, they had little to worry, for their rank would most likely stay the same.

As always, Mail finished the test much sooner than expected—as well as Near and Mello—so the boys were dismissed from the testing classrooms and all three parted ways. For once, the red head enjoyed the silence and solitude of the hallways. Only the sound of his sneakers against the tiled floor and the sound of his own breathing could be heard. His mind wandered to the past events from the day before and he was tempted to visit the back garden once again, to see if the cigarette was still were he left it, intent on squeezing all the juice out of it. The thought of anyone catching him doing it crossed his mind, but he was not worried; everyone and their moms were busy doing the BGKA. He reached the back door in no time, and without hesitating made his way to the secluded hedges, where the cement bench was located. When he reached his self-proclaimed sanctuary, though, he froze on the spot at the sight of the black haired girl that lay on the tall grass.

He held his breath for a second, feeling the rapid beat of his heart on his ears, and figured that she must have heard him approach, so he couldn't just stand there like an idiot much longer. With his gaze stuck to his feet, Mail walked forward, and was surprised to see her widened eyes looking up at him after he reached her; he had startled her. The red haired teenager decided to join her on the grass, so with a graceful curling motion he sat on the ground and looked at her. The smile she offered him was assuring, so he felt invited to speak, "How come you're not taking the test? You did pretty well last time."

Her smile left her lips before answering, "I won't need it anymore."

"What do you mean?" Mail shifted his weight from one arm to another as he asked. He noticed how her lower lip was swollen, as if it had been bleeding, and was about to ask her about it, though she started talking first.

"Andre turns eighteen in two days," Merry explained, but it seemed as if Mail had not caught on to what she was trying to say, so she elaborated "He wants to move out of Wammy's House as soon as he can, and of course me, Marco, and Carmelo are gonna leave with him." She let out a meek sigh before turning her saddened eyes away from him.

Mail moved his legs and laid his torso on top of the grass, next to his black haired friend, as understanding began to sink in. So this was what she meant by "not having a lot of time left" in her note. He faced the other way and, mostly to himself, whispered "So you're going to move out soon."

She sat up and looked at him boldly, but he tried to ignore her gaze as much as he could. Still not looking at her directly in the eye, he asked as he touched his lip, to complement his question, "What happened to your lips?"

Merry choked a laugh, and it was as if the tension had finally lifted. With a smirk on her face she responded "My roommate and I were jumping on our beds last night. I sorta missed my footing and fell on the bed; I hit my face on the footboard of my bed and started bleeding really bad ..." She brought a finger up to her lip and grimaced as she touched it.

The boy turned to face her, raising an eyebrow and giving her an amused look. They looked at each other's eyes for a little while before bursting into laughter. After calming down Merry went back down to the grass and laid like she was previously. The silence was welcoming, but Mail felt as if it was now his turn for an explanation. Nervosity crept into his very spine and his pulse quickened as the moments passed. The teenager, once again, turned his face to the other side, afraid that his eyes might divulge everything that was going through his mind. He inhaled deeply and decided to just let it all out. "Merry?" Her name rolled out of his mouth as if he were savoring the word for the first time.

"Yeah?" Was her meek response.

Mail closed his eyes before admitting, "I really like you."

He could just imagine the shock on her face, and immediately regretted confessing his affection. His body tensed when he heard the grass beside him move, but, ironically, his worries seemed to diminish after he felt her right hand gently grab his left. "I really like you, too," the girl replied kindly after what seemed an eternity. His face swiftly moved to look at her, surprised at her response and grateful that things had not gone horribly wrong.

She sat up once again, and their eyes met. "Yeah Matt, I do like you." Her brown eyes trailed down to look at her bare hands before continuing, "I like you more than just a friend, and I _wanted _to tell you before I left, even if you didn't feel the same way." Her sad smile encouraged him to sit up and face her evenly. Mail grabbed her hands in his, feeling as if his heart was about to jump out of his mouth, but frowned at the tears that pooled around her eyes. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I didn't have to leave Wammy's House," Merry whispered in disbelief while she allowed Mail to gently clean her tears away.

The red head offered her a sincere smile and said "Don't be stupid Merry, I told you, I feel the same way." Then he chuckled, "Mello showed me your note." Her eyes widened in alarm, and perhaps her countenance was so genuine, so captivating, that Mail couldn't stop himself from giving her a rushed, clumsy kiss on the lips.

Merry—caught by surprise—recoiled, brought her hand up to her mouth, and whined an "Ow!" Mail's disbelief was quickly replaced by understanding—he had hurt her swollen lip—and the two of them laughed in unison again. The girl inched closer to Mail and wrapped her hands around his torso, placing her head on his shoulder. Mail's arms followed her lead, embracing her close to his body; close to his rapidly beating heart. Just now, he felt at peace, and he purposely forgot about everything, except for the fact that right now, Merry was here, with him.

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**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**


	7. Unlucky, Final Day

Hi. Sorry for the very, very late update; I had a really bad writer's block...  
This is the last chapter of _Sugar on a Grapefruit,_ for now. I will mark the story as complete, and don't really expect a new chapter soon, but I _do_ want to make a finale; I just don't want to leave you guys waiting. I would like to thank my Beta, **Eden**, for all her help; she's really good at fanfictions... and this story would have been different had it not been for her. Visit her page by searching for **Nalie**, trust me it's worth it. I made this chapter extra long, because you guys deserve it, so enjoy it! And _please_ I want to hear your thoughts about the story and chapters, so _review_ or _PM_ or even _email_ me! Until next time~  
Bye for now! *Kiss*

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**Unlucky, Final Day**

"_You must save the princess! I know she lies hidden in…"_ The teenage boy pressed the _A_ button, having already memorized the dialogue of his video game. "_Trust your knights, for we will follow you to the darkest of…"_ Again, Mail did not hesitate to rush the storyline of the game; he wanted _action_, not some mushy tale about a damsel in distress. His attention was drawn to a sudden, loud, snoring sound coming from across the room, where Mello slept. The boy smirked at Mello's sleeping form, hardly ignoring his best friend's moment of weakness, and decidedly went back to his video game. After a while, his tired eyes gazed upon the watch on his nightstand, and his thin lips frowned at the blinking _1:17 AM_ it projected. For a moment his brilliant blue eyes looked up at the ceiling, but once he lowered the volume of his Game Boy Advance SP, he was able to turn his attention to the girl that was curled up next to him. The room was so silent he could now hear the music that flowed from her tiny, pink-colored headphones.

He instinctively reached over to the edge of the bed, searching for her iPod, intent on turning it off now that she had finally fallen asleep. The teenager flinched as he realized that he was not cautious enough, and the black haired girl was stirring, now awake. Merry suddenly sat up, hitting his reaching arm in the process, and rapidly jumped out of bed and ran to the boy's bathroom. Mail Jeevas muffled a laugh once he heard her peeing, but the silence of the night made it easy for the girl to hear him and she moaned a "oh shut up" in response. Mail pretended to be interested in his video game when he heard her approach, now finished with her business. She sat next to him, on his bed, and the teenagers settled to just lazily smiling at each other.

"It's one in the mo-mo-morning," Merry was unable to stifle an enormous yawn.

The red haired teen slid his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. He gave his lower lip a painful bite as his immediate reaction to the kiss she placed on his neck. The scent of her messy, black hair was intoxicating, and it did not help that every breath she took so very close to his neck made his heart want to jump up his throat and into his mouth. Anyone would assume that he was used to her very presence by now, for it was not unusual for Merry to sleep over in their bedroom every now and then. But each single time they shared a bed it seemed as if he were unable to believe that he was actually spending these sweet, precious moments with her. Their relationship was not sexual in any way, but oh so _very_ sensual. He placed his chin over her head once she curled around him and he could feel her falling asleep once again, but was surprised to hear her wanting to make a conversation.

"I can't believe you're still playing," she whispered while she toyed with the folds of his pajamas.

"I can't believe you're still awake," he responded, his senses now having forgotten the handheld console on his right hand and being completely engulfed by her presence.

Merry moved her head, trying to look at him in the eye. "Let's sleep together, then," the girl proposed. Mail offered her a lazy nod in response and didn't even bother saving his game before shutting the gadget off. He reached over to the nightstand to place his console, and was caught off guard at the pressing of her body against his. The teen felt immensely grateful that the room was so dark he was sure Merry was unable to see the crimson blush that crept to his cheeks. The girl gave him a kiss that lingered a little less long than he would have preferred and somehow, between smiles and tickles and kisses, the two teenagers were able to fall asleep at last.

--

"So wait, wait, wait. You're from Austria?" Merry inquired nosily. Mail, annoyed at her questions, nodded; now busy trying to figure out how to braid her abundant hair. Earlier in the day Roger had handed him a photo album and several documents that had belonged to his late parents. Khalid and Sara Jeevas were apparently a humble couple that had been too poor to support their love child, so, according to Roger, when Mail was just a toddler they had to leave him in an remote Catholic orphanage in southern Austria. Every month his mom would send him a letter, which he could now hardly remember, but the worn out paper written in the German dialect that he now held was a living proof of Roger's story. One thing Mail could remember, though, was the very first month he failed to receive a letter from his mother, for when the five-year-old realized that his letter wasn't going to arrive, he went out of his way to depart to the forest surrounding the orphanage, in hopes that he might find his missing mother, where he became lost and desolate for the horrid amount of three days.

The red haired boy fished around his pockets for a picture he had pocketed earlier in the day. He let Merry glimpse at the old photograph; a tall black haired man and an equally tall blonde woman were smiling at the camera, in their hands was a bald infant, whom Mail figured was himself. He smiled at the squeaky sound Merry emitted when she saw the picture. "That's you!" She stated with delight.

Mello, who was sitting across from them in the bus, struggled to get closer and look at the picture as well. "What's Austria like, Matt?" The blond asked with dim interest.

"Green," Mail just shrugged. He vaguely remembered anything before coming to Wammy's House. He could remember the forest that bordered his orphanage, mostly because the time he had spent in that forest was the worst experience of his life. He remembered that every Saturday the Milkman came, and it was then that they could have his special cheese. He also remembered the shepherd that lived close by, because once or twice he plotted to steal one of his many sheep. After a while of idle questions about his forgotten childhood Mello went back to gazing out the window, careful of not missing their stop. Merry, once again, settled next to him, and turned her face to allow him to play with her hair.

To Mail, the news that Merry was soon to depart from the orphanage had not been forgotten, but, much to their favor, the Benet children's departure had been delayed for the total amount of two weeks. Andre had to, very grumpily, take care of much paper work and official looking business before he was able to take his younger siblings on his adventure to the grown up world. Today, though, was their last day in Wammy's House. Merry's things had already been packed, and were now in her room, waiting for night to fall, when a cab would take the Benet children to the Southampton International Airport, where they would take the last plane for the day to Barcelona, Spain at midnight. So today, as a "goodbye present," Roger allowed them to leave the orphanage and take a bus around town. Mail, being the introvert he was, did not like the idea at first, but with a little persuasion coming from Mello's and Merry's side, agreed, and the three teenagers hastily left the orphanage after having their lunch.

So far, they had been to three candy shops.

Mello's hand was tightly clutching several plastic bags that held an assorted arrangement of different chocolate bars. He jumped out of his seat excitedly, not bothering to wait for the bus to come to a complete stop. "Nanny's Sweet Tooth is located between 7th Street and 9th Street," Mello was a little shaken by his own euphoria. Merry feeling annoyed, and Mail with an indifferent aura about him, followed the blond teenager as he hastily stepped out of the bus. Mail was half blinded by the bright day, it was cloudy and humid, but it was one of those days that even though the sun was not present the sky didn't fail to be brightly lit.

They followed Mello through the cobblestoned sidewalk but Mail paid little attention as Mello ranted on about how he researched most of the candy shops in town just for today. Merry could sense his annoyance and gave his hand a tender squeeze. The red headed teenager turned to look at her and was about to slip out a joke about sweets when his attention was drawn to the other side of the street, in which a group of older teenagers hung around a busy auto shop. "Hey Mello, you go ahead to Nanny's Sweet-whatever shop, I'll go over there," Mail motioned to the shop across the street and let go of Merry's hand as he walked towards it. The girl was taken by surprise and almost tripped, but decided to follow him.

"You guys want me to get you anything?" Mello nearly yelled, now being a couple yards ahead of them.

"A sucker for me please!" Merry waved and, after checking both sides of the street for incoming cars, ran after Mail.

Three guys and a very attractive girl were leaning against the hoods of several parked cars; they chatted nosily but soon fell silent as the red headed fourteen-year-old approached them. "Matt! What are you doing around this side of town?" The eldest teen, who Mail knew was Alexander, waved at him as he walked closer.

"I was just—" he was interrupted when Merry took his hand in hers and stood right beside him, smiling at the group. "Er—you know, hanging around," Mail just shrugged.

"That your girlfriend?" One of the guys pointed out and Merry nodded excitedly.

"She's kinda plain, isn't she?" The older girl stated after popping her gum. She had blond, wavy hair, wore a lot of mascara, and was much curved in the right places. Compared to her, at the young age of thirteen, Merry felt very much plain.

Merry's face turned crimson red and she was about to snap a reply when Mail interrupted her, "Alex… can I talk to you for a sec?" Mail inched forward, letting go of Merry's hand. Alex, being tall and built, put his arm around Mail's shoulder as they walked away from the group, for some privacy.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate; she's really bitchy and clingy, but the sex is great," Alexander explained, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Is it?" Mail said with half a laugh, not really interested in Alexander's sexual life.

"So what do you need?" The older teen finally asked.

The boy took a couple bills out of his pocket and handed then to Alexander. "I need you to get me some cigarettes. Is that enough?" Mail said hurriedly, hoping that the other teens wouldn't hear their conversation.

Alexander smirked and took the money. "You go through them fast, you know that? Lucky for you I just came back from the gas station," he searched around his leather jacket and took out a brand new pack of cigarettes. "Here ya go."

Mail grabbed it without hesitating, he smirked and said, shrugging, "Thanks man, I just don't want to run out, that's all…"

"Sure…" They walked back to the group as the blond girl—or rather, young woman—was having a heated argument with one of the guys about alcohol regulations. Merry spotted Mail and quickly approached him with an angry pout and her brows furrowed.

"If you're gonna stay here longer I'm gonna go with Mello," said Merry angrily as she shot a glare towards the blond teen. "She's unbelievable!" The black haired girl said in an undertone before hastily leaving the shop.

Mail turned to look at his older friends and said helplessly, "I better go after her, thanks though!" He waved goodbye and followed Merry as she trotted her way to the candy store. He finally caught up to her when she entered the store but decided not to bring the subject up, so together they walked around, looking for Mello. Said boy was comparing two chocolate bars, but his face dropped in disappointment when he spotted them. "Mello just get both, I'll pay for them," Merry snapped in annoyance and snatched the chocolate bars away from his grasp before walking up to the cash register.

"What's up with you?" Mello gave her a disgusted look. Behind her, Mail was hastily making signs to drop the question and forget about it. "Oh shit," Mello looked past Mail and through the window and saw that heavy droplets of water were beginning to fall from the skies. "It's started to rain…" Mail turned to look and, indeed, what once was a bright day suddenly became a dull and gloomy afternoon. "I guess we can't leave the shop until the rain stops," Mello announced in victory. They hung around the shop for a while, and Merry's temper was finally soothed; she was too entertained with marshmallows and a chocolate fountain to care about her plain face and flat chest, which Mail was very relieved about. Mello's victorious air, though, only lasted for a couple minutes, for just as fast as the rain came, it went, leaving the Winchester streets damp and filled with an unwelcoming humid vapor.

Soon after the rain stopped the three friends decided to head back to the orphanage; Mello could not complain, for he was much satisfied with all the shopping he had done, and Merry felt she had had enough sightseeing for one day. When they arrived at the gates of Wammy's House, though, they were surprised to see a small crowd of younger children staring excitedly at Mail. They giggled and pointed until finally one of the children said aloud, "Roger's furious! What did you do?"

"He's waiting for you!" Another one said.

"Oooooh!" A few girls giggled.

"What—" Mail was cut short by Mello's harsh words.

"Scram! Go! The whole lot of you!" Mello pushed through the crowd and dispersed the children. Mail felt half frustrated with Mello that by scattering the kids, he was unable to ask what the commotion was all about, but didn't hesitate before following Mello and Merry into the house. They walked in silence, side by side, each lost in their own thoughts. Instead of going to Roger's office right away, though, they took a detour to Mello and Mail's bedroom. Once they reached the safety of their room Mail figured Merry wasn't much interested in the trouble Mail might be in, for after quickly whispering that she had stuff to do, she left the room, leaving them to their business.

Mello opened one of his newly bought chocolate bars before stating, "You better go to Roger, I ain't coming with you."

Mail rolled his eyes and, right before leaving, remembered to leave and hide his cigarette pack under his mattress in case Roger did a body search. He walked quickly, ignoring the few curious glances he got from the children he saw on the way and wondered exactly what in the world he must have done wrong this time. The teen reached the headmaster's office and opened the doors and walked in without invitation. Once inside he spotted Near sitting on a sofa next to the fireplace; the albino boy quickly adverted his gaze, trying his best to ignore Mail.

"Yes—Yes, I've already called a taxi, their scheduled flight will leave at midnight. Oh—Yeah, thank you." Roger was on the phone, no doubt talking about Merry's departure. He gave Mail a brief glance when he walked in, but ignored the teen and continued with is conversation. Mail, not knowing what to expect, stayed rooted to the spot. "Andre assured me that everything is taken care of, I suppose he's in a hurry to leave," Roger chuckled. "Indeed. Well I'll get back to you if there are any changes, Mr. Cardona. Thank you, take care." And he hung up the phone.

Roger's lip formed a sneer of disapproval as he eyed Mail. He stood up from his seat, as if to be in eye level with Mail, and retrieved a small parcel from the drawer under his desk; Mail squinted to look but Roger had strategically placed the parcel out of view. "You ungrateful little punk," Roger spat. "I suppose living in Wammy's House isn't _cool_ enough for the brilliant Mail Jeevas." Only when expressing extreme disapproval did Roger say his real name. "So to make himself look _cool_ to others he shows off and starts _smoking._ _Smoking_ at the age of fourteen; a genius, isn't he?"

"What are you talking—" Mail began to say but…

"SILENCE. You will hear me out Jeevas!" Roger was furious now. "Don't pretend you can lie to me about this anymore! You think I wouldn't notice? You think Mr. Jenkins wouldn't tell me that various used cigarettes somehow ended up in the trash cans around the back garden?" He mentioned the orphanage's gardener. "You think your professors wouldn't notice the reek in your clothes? How dare you waste the potential of your life, of your _brains_, on such a pointless vice!" He then grabbed the parcel, which by now Mail could tell was the opened pack of cigarettes he had hid in the inside of a shoe, under his bed, and threw the pack at Mail's chest. The parcel dropped to the ground and all Mail could think about was of how this pack of cigarettes ended up in Roger's possession.

Mail, although speechless, looked up at Roger and gave him a defiant glare. "Of course I couldn't just accuse you without any proof—Of course… not until Near here finally summed up the courage to bring this to me. I'm assuming you had him bullied into not telling anybody, did you?" Roger motioned towards Near and Mail had to mentally stop himself from jumping at the boy's neck. Now, it seemed that Roger's anger had calmed down. "I suppose Mello is smart enough not to share this vice with you, although I wouldn't be surprised either…"

Mail shook his head in anger.

"'No' what?" Roger asked harshly.

"Mello does not smoke," Mail replied slowly, mostly because his blood was seething with anger at charming, little _Near_.

"Well he most certainly was an accomplice, of that I'm sure. No matter what amount of punishment I give you Jeevas, you still seem to not care about getting in trouble. Are you even taking L's succession seriously?" Roger continued on with his rant, but Mail didn't care anymore, so he paid little attention. "So, you and Mello will both get detention for a whole week, three hours a day with Mrs. Qazi—"

"Why Mello? He's got nothing to do with this." Mail countered loudly.

"Because I know for a fact that _he _will not like being in detention at all, and hopefully next time he will consider telling on you when you wish to get yourself into trouble." This made Mail roll his eyes, but deep down he knew that Roger was right; Mello was going to give him hell for it… "And you will also help Mr. Jenkins with the gardens everyday for two weeks; I believe he not only works here at the orphanage but also works at the St. Augustus Episcopal Church, so you will help there as well."

Mail's jaw dropped, "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't _kid_. I don't want you asking me for money anymore, I won't be funding this addiction any longer. Now, get out my office." Roger's words were final, but Mail was grateful that he didn't have to be around him any longer. His anger clouded his sense though, so he hung around the outside of Roger's office for a little longer, full well knowing that Near had to come out eventually.

The doors opened slowly and he hid himself behind the other side of it; hiding, waiting. The moment Near closed the door he jumped in surprise at the sight of Mail waiting for him. Still fuming with anger, Mail shoved the boy and gave him a powerful punch that sent him crashing down to the tiled floor. Near yelped as he tried to kick and push Mail away, but Mail had thrown himself on top of the boy and was now in the process of choking him. "You think you're so important, don't you? What? Did he give you free marks for telling on me? IDIOT!"

Then, out of nowhere, someone pulled Mail by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the opposite side of the hallway. Roger hovered over both of them, his face contorted with anger. "Jeevas! Get out! Get out before I give you the beating of your life!" The teen didn't think twice before getting to his feet and rushing out of Roger's reach and towards his room. On the way to the dorm he was ignored by the children, for they feared the angry expression on his face.

Mail reached his bedroom and very unceremoniously slammed his door shut. Mello flinched at his arrival but decided against asking anything of it, that is, until Mail grabbed the pack of cigarettes that were under his mattress and began smoking in the room; thing he had never done before. "What are you doing? Don't smoke here! You'll get yourself caught."

"Oh it's too late for that," replied Mail, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

"What?"

The teen took a long drag before answering, "Near snitched."

Mello tsked, "I knew we should have bullied him into being quiet. Well at least open a window for goodness sake!" The blond exclaimed, not taking his eyes away from the heavy book he was reading.

Mail did so without any hesitation, he himself didn't like the idea of perfuming their room with the nasty smell of cigarettes. "That's what Roger reckons. We should have bullied him indeed." The teen smirked and decided not to tell Mello of his fight—beating, rather—with Near. The gossip would fly around the orphanage in no time at all.

Night fell sooner than expected, and Mail was alarmed that in his own anger at Roger and Near he had completely forgotten that Merry was leaving tonight. He was about to tell Mello of their detentions but decided not to just yet, for he expected to be heavily berated once Mello finds out, so he left the blond alone without a single word, intent on finding Merry. He didn't have to look for too long though, for the girl was in her bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror and with her hands squeezing her chest forward, as if wanting to accentuate her inexistent breasts.

"I guess I really am plain," Merry stated once acknowledging his presence.

Mail smiled and approached her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder. "Why would you say that, I like you. You're very sexy," he said but couldn't hide the amusement in his face and sniggered.

She gave him a playful glare through the mirror and said once again, "Did you see that girl though! Her boobs were so huge…"

His face dropped and he turned her around to face him. Mail set his forehead against hers and said, "If you're comparing us to them, then I'm very, very plain too." He thought of Alexander and how built his body was. Mail had always been skinny, and he was actually proud of his chicken legs…

"You're not plain!" Merry said at once. "You're tall, and you have freckles all over your body," she rubbed her nose against his in a playful manner. "You have eyes that I go dumb for…" Merry didn't have to finish talking though; Mail's hand found their way to her hair and pushed her up for a light kiss. Their lips lingered on each other for a little longer, the ghost of a longing of wanting to be with each other for a couple more days. But the reality was that their fantasy was over; Merry would be in a flight to Barcelona in less than five hours and there was nothing he could do about it. Not only was Merry going to leave Wammy's House forever, Roger now knew of his cigarette addiction and was probably going to give him hell for it for the rest of his life.

They broke away from the kiss and Merry led him to sit on the side of her bed. "Will you write?" She asked looking down, now remembering as well that her life was going to change forever.

"If I ever find out your address," Mail said in a light tone. Several times he asked her exactly where she was moving to, but apparently she was also unaware of the details.

Her big brown eyes looked up at him once again, "I'll write to you first, and then you can use the return address!" In his distraction she gave him a quick peck and smiled. "Er… Matt?" Merry inquired shyly. "Is it true? Did you hurt Near today?"

This did it. His mood dropped and once again the memories of Roger's office came flooding down onto him. Mail looked away, annoyed that she had asked him this way. "You think _I_ hurt _him_? He did more harm to me than I did to him! He snitched on me, Merry!"

"Ok! Ok! Calm down Matt!" Merry quickly responded, her tone filled with worry. "How about… In every letter I send I'll include a cigarette pack?" It hurt her to say it but she meant it as a joke.

Mail glared at her, but secretly hoped that that would be the case. He embraced her and both leaned against the wall. "Matt?" She asked once again.

"Don't ask about Near…" He warned in an undertone.

"No. I just wanted to ask you… because I never really knew…" She paused, as if rethinking her question. With a nudge, Mail encouraged her. "What's your real name?"

The red head sighed. He pondered it and, regardless of his and Mello's motto, answered with the truth, "My real is Mail Jeevas. The only people that know are Mello, Roger, Near I bet…" At the mention of Near's name his tone changed to spite. "And now you. You mustn't tell anybody, Merry."

She smiled, glad that he had share such a kept secret with her. "I'm sure you know mine," she giggled.

"Yes I haven't forgotten." Their hands squeezed each other, as if finally saying goodbye. Both looked up at the ceiling, fearful of what the future might bring next, but were reassured that they'd always have the memory of each other. "Merry, don't forget about me," Mail gave her hand a stronger squeeze.

She turned to him, inched closer, and her lips almost brushed against his cheek, making his heart flutter. "I promise I won't."

* * *

**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**

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Heey, I'm back sooner than you thought huh! I made a fanart to accompany the story, check my DeviantArt (homepage in the userpage) to view the drawing! Alright then... Adios!


	8. Bonus chapter: Jessica London

**Quick Info**: I'm back! And with the bonus chapter I promised! This chapter is set sometime during 2009. I know there's very little time between Mello's burn injury and his death, but I realized this after I wrote the chapter... So for the sake of the chapter let's pretend Matt and Mello didn't die so soon... The chapter has some adult themes so its rated between T and M. Also, I did yet another drawing for the story to commemorate the story's first year anniversary (it was first published in January), just visit my homepage link in my user page to view it. **Enjoy! And Review!**

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**Bonus Chapter: Jessica London**

_He turned his face away from the camera and nearly sprinted through the crowd of people as he followed the two women. His heart rushed with anticipation and excitement with every second that passed, for he was beginning to recognize the facial features of the young woman he had become so interested in. Long, black hair covered her bare shoulders and some of her face, and every once in a while she would move her locks away from her pretty, round face to reveal a pair of familiar brown eyes. _This was Merry, his Merry_, he was now positive of it. The young woman followed Jessica London in to a fancy looking building and Mail had to stop himself before he did anything harsh that he would later regret. What were the odds, that he would see Merry again? And in Tokyo, of all places…_

--

Crimson rays of light from the setting sun began to creep through the window shutters and settled on a young man's sleeping face. Only at this time of the day did the sun hit the exact point in which the window shutters were slightly askew, much to the annoyance of the auburn haired teenager, who was now stirring in his sleep. The room he currently inhabited was devoid of any artificial light; the only illumination being that of the sun rays coming from the bent window shutters. The young man subconsciously moved his face in an attempt to escape from the unforgiving light and in doing so his freckles and abundant auburn hair were finally visible.

Mail Jeevas screwed his face in annoyance now that reality had begun to settle, and he finally realized that the afternoon light coming from outside was the very reason his nap had been interrupted. His cobalt eyes slowly opened, scanning his living room in a daze; all this time he had been laying on a worn-out couch that faced a television and several LCD screens, which he continuously used to monitor Misa Amane's everyday life. All screens remained turned off, though, since earlier in the day there had been a power outage in the building. Upon glancing at his wrist watch, Mail realized the blackout was lasting three hours and counting…

His insides momentarily shook with panic when he remembered that Mello would arrive to their apartment at any moment now, and he would surely have a fit if he found out that their investigation on Misa Amane and Light Yagami was on hold because of the unstable electricity utility in their broken down apartment building. He weighted his next possible actions and simply decided on dealing with Mello's tantrum. The young man simply searched around his pocket and pulled out his signature cigarette and lighter, then leisurely began smoking in the living room.

Mail sat there on his couch, chain smoking a couple cigarettes, while he pondered what to do about the lack of electricity. What if this wasn't an accidental power outage? What if something pertaining to the Kira investigation actually happened in Misa Amane's otherwise uninteresting life? Mello would surely give him hell for it. Just as the teenager finally decided to go downstairs and complain to the landowner he heard the jingling of keys outside his door and within a matter of seconds Mello walked in to the dark apartment. The blond walked over to the kitchen counter and leaned over it, panting with exhaustion. He then set the several grocery bags he had been carrying all this time in front of him. "Goddamn it!" The blond exclaimed between his huffing and puffing.

From his spot all the way in the couch, Mail noticed Mello today had covered the healing burn on his face with a bandage; an ample amount of time had passed since the _incident,_ and Mello just recently started to get over the inhibitions and the ever-growing inferiority complex that his facial deformation had caused, so he covered his scar less and less nowadays. "You took the stairs?" Mail asked, taking an educated guess about Mello's exhaustion.

"Why the fuck is the power out?" Mello ignored his question and unloaded the items out of the grocery bags. He successfully found a chocolate bar, which he hastily began munching on.

Mail leaned over, trying to see what his roommate had bought. "Did you get my things?"

"I'm guessing our equipment is turned off? Damn it all!" Mello didn't pay much attention to Mail's questions; there were more important matters at the moment. "I bet the Japanese Task Force realized we were spying on them… they probably had something to do with the blackout… Kira's probably making a move right now," murmured Mello as he put the pieces together and accurately shared Mail's thoughts.

The red head, though, decided that Mello was overreacting as usual; he rolled his eyes and said, "Don't be paranoid. Are you implying that I'm getting sloppy at my job? I don't leave traces and you know that." Mail was the one in charge of all surveillance, so if they were discovered then it automatically meant that it was Mail's fault. His words seemed to reassure Mello, so he asked once again, "Mello did you get my things?"

"Oh yeah, yeah!" Mello searched around the bags again and retrieved a jumbo cigarette pack and tossed it towards an eager Mail.

"You bloody got the cheapest brand!" Mail complained even though he had not contributed a single cent.

Now it was Mello's turn to roll his eyes and he replied with a smirk, "It was either cheap cigarettes and porn or expensive cigarettes and no porn." The reason why Mello had been out for the majority of the afternoon was because he wanted to run some errands, buy a few groceries, and most importantly, pay his weekly visit to a nearby XXX video store. "I rented _The Nurse Rapist 3_ and _Stacy Hires A Gardener_." Again, the blond tossed the DVDs at Mail so that he was able to take a look at them.

The two roommates then teamed up in organizing the groceries and once they had finished Mello decided to address the subject of today's errands. "Matt we're running out of money," Mello said in an undertone. Their faux investigation on Kira, the Japanese Task Force, and the SPK had them emotionally, physically, and financially exhausted; ever since the pair had to leave from L.A. to Tokyo and spend money from their own pockets to support the investigation their wallets had been considerably restrained. "Cigarettes and porn are becoming a luxury now…"

"_And_ chocolate," Mail murmured while he gave Mello a knowing look.

"Especially cigarettes…" Mello whispered to himself, though he hoped Mail had heard him.

"I'm not about to quit."

"Well that's why we need to start making some money, and so I came up with a plan that will assure us a solid income until we solve the Kira case," said Mello as he walked over to their messy kitchen table. He shuffled a couple sheets of paper until he found the magazine he was looking for. "Jessica London, fashionista and heiress to a European bank funds corporation," he pointed at a pretty young woman that was featured in the magazine's paparazzi pictures. "She arrived in Tokyo three days ago; apparently she's throwing her twenty-first birthday party in some club around here next week…"

"And?"

"We're going to kidnap her." Mail felt a hard lump settle in the pit of his stomach; he immediately knew that _he_ would be the one doing the kidnapping, not necessarily Mello. "We kidnap her, demand for money in return, and get on with our lives." He made it sound so simple… Mello handed his roommate a manila folder and continued, "Don't worry about details too much, I've got everything planned out already. For now I just need you to follow her; find out where she stays, what she does on a daily basis, who she sees, etc., and figure out the perfect time to kidnap her."

Mail fingered the photograph he had retrieved from the folder then said, "Kidnap her… couldn't you be a little bit more creative, Mello?"

"Hey it's the fastest and most effective method I could think of at this time… we kidnap her before her ridiculous party, that way her associates would want to pay up ASAP so that the press doesn't find out."

Mail spent the rest of the night in misery. The power eventually came back on, so he was still keeping surveillance on Misa Amane, and to top it all off he had to review the details about their future kidnap, which made him feel downright miserable; spying on actresses and police agents was one thing, kidnapping a fashion figure was another.

--

Regardless of the time of the day, Tokyo streets remained busy as usual. People came and went, minding their own business, not really paying attention to the details around them. A tall red-headed man remained unnoticed as he walked through the Tokyo streets sporting his signature goggles and carrying around a camera he had acquired for his current assignment; to spy on Jessica London. Said woman had recently stepped out of a trendy clothes shop, so Mail had busied himself with following her as she made her way around the sidewalk with her entourage. Despite of how crowded the streets were, Mail felt no shame in aiming his camera towards the heiress and taking several snapshots.

The young woman moved out of view, mostly because pedestrians kept getting in the way, and it was by accident that Mail's camera zoom lingered over another woman's face. Mail felt his heart skip several beats as his brain registered the face he had just seen. He quickly aimed his camera once again; feeling terrified that he might miss the young woman and never seeing that familiar face again. His camera zoom centered over the black-haired girl's face and Mail didn't have to think twice before snapping several shots of the teenager, completely having forgotten about his initial target.

He turned his face away from the camera and nearly sprinted through the crowd of people as he followed the two women. His heart rushed with anticipation and excitement with every second that passed, for he was beginning to recognize the facial features of the young woman he had become so interested in. Long, black hair covered her bare shoulders and some of her face, and every once in a while she would move her locks away from her pretty, round face to reveal a pair of familiar brown eyes. _This was Merry_, _his Merry_, he was now positive of it. The young woman followed Jessica London in to a fancy looking building and Mail had to stop himself before he did anything harsh that he would later regret. What were the odds, that he would see Merry again? And in Tokyo, of all places…

--

Mail returned to his apartment with high hopes, eager to show Mello his grand discovery. He hastily printed out all the photographs and quickly approached Mello, who was, with a mirror in his hand, busy picking on the scar on his face. "Mello, stop that," the red-head moved his best friend's hand away, making him rip a bit of dead skin off and yelp in pain.

"Ouch! Watch it, you dumbass!"

The young man nearly shoved Merry's photograph in front of Mello's face, yet he felt disappointed at Mello's lack of visible reaction. "Valentina Benet… So it's true," the blond murmured.

"You knew about this?" For a second Mail felt betrayed. Saying that seeing her again didn't fill him with heartache would be a lie; he still missed her dearly, and how could he not? She had been the first and only girl in his inexperienced life.

Mello looked at him in the eyes before replying, "I read in one of those ridiculous magazines that Jessica London was bringing some of her friends to Tokyo, and they mentioned Valentina Benet, but I didn't want to believe it. I don't know… this is an incredible coincidence. What are the odds, that after five years we all end up in the same city?"

Mail did not want to share Mello's suspicion; he was simply glad that there was an opportunity for him to talk to her once again. After she left the orphanage five years ago, Mail and Merry had continuously exchanged correspondence for nearly two years. Time and distance took its toll on both children though, so they felt more separated than ever, until finally Merry simply did not return any of his letters anymore. His feeling of betrayal finally severed the bond they shared and buried any hope he had for his or her future; Merry no longer was the girl in his life, but a girl in the history of his life. But now things were different, now he could see her in person—in flesh and blood, and he was not about to let this opportunity slip away.

--

Next day, Mail Jeevas pretended to be following Jessica London, but in reality he kept his blue eyes on only one person, and that was Merry—better known as Valentina Benet. The girl hung out with Jessica London a couple of times, but she was overshadowed by the celebrity's other groupies, so she eventually drifted off to her individual activities. This was when Mail made his first mistake; he forgot all about following his target, and instead decided to follow his childhood girlfriend. He learned that she had been staying in a Hilton, in one of the highest floors (of course, way below Jessica London's presidential suite). He concluded that she came without her older brothers, and she had dedicated her time to visiting different restaurants and bakery shops.

The red-head made sure the girl had stepped out of the hotel before entering the Hilton she had been staying at. He took the elevators all the way to her floor, and hastily retrieved a piece of paper and an ink pen from his backpack. He made sure to maintain the same handwriting he once had when he was fourteen years old and quickly scribbled down:

"_Merry,_

_Look, you've grown, you look so changed,_

_I wonder how I would look to you."_

Mail didn't have to sign the piece of paper; he knew that she was well aware that only the children at Wammy's knew her as Merry. He inserted the folded letter in to an envelope and slipped it under her door. The young man quickly walked out of the building, although something within him begged him to stay—to let her see him. He'd give anything to see her surprised countenance when she read the note, but he could not afford setting up surveillance in her floor and being caught; he'd never hear the end of it from Mello.

--

The next day Mail did the same thing, although this time he had to lie to Mello and pretend that he had a clear idea of what Jessica London's life was like, to avoid his continuous nagging. This time Merry did not leave her hotel room, so Mail had to be especially careful about making any noises when he delivered his letter. Deep down his heart ached; he wanted to knock on her door, to surprise her with his actual presence, but he knew better. What if she had a boyfriend? What if she was entirely over him? And what if she felt threatened or disgusted by him stalking her? He decided to shove all negativity away and slipped yet another note under her door:

"_I hope I haven't been forgotten,_

_Because I haven't forgotten you._

_I'm not allowed to let you see me,_

_Maybe someday you'll understand."_

He hastily stepped in to the fire escape, afraid of being discovered, and not soon after he heard somebody open the fire escape door a flight above him, so he sped up. He nearly sprinted down the stairs and eventually his pursuer gave in to their exhaustion and gave up.

--

Often times Mail pondered telling Mello; he thought about confessing to Mello that all this time he had been following Merry instead of Jessica London, that he was unprepared for his future kidnap, and that he was planning on seeing Merry in person. But lately Mello had been increasingly moody, so Mail had little to no opportunities to tell him. He fed his best friend with lies about his dislike towards Jessica London's destructive lifestyle (which he actually didn't care nor didn't know about), and continued visiting Merry's hotel room. Today, a surprise was waiting for him in Merry's door.

Taped to the top of Merry's door was a scented envelope that had his name written with her familiarly curly handwriting across it. Before reaching for the envelope he made sure nobody was watching him in the hallway, and then he quickly snatched the envelope away and once again entered the fire escape. Mail did not read the letter that was addressed to him until he had reached a small café a safe distance away from the hotel, and it said:

"_Matt, you underestimated me._

_I didn't go to Wammy's house for nothing,_

_You know._

_I realized you were following me,_

_But don't worry, I will not follow you._

_Please, I want to meet you,_

_I promise I won't tell anyone._

_And no, I haven't forgotten you,_

_How could I?_

_I miss you, Merry."_

His heart then raced. He was amazed that she had spotted him, and yet she accurately hid her bewilderment, so that all this time he had remained deceived. Now he was certain that he could not tell Mello of the incident, or allow him to read the letter, for he would assume that Mail was following her all along. For the remainder of the day Mail debated whether or not to meet her, and then he thought about Mello, in his case, was it better to ask for forgiveness than permission?

Despite what his heart begged him to do, Mail Jeevas decided to purposely break Merry's heart. For him, at this point and time in his life, Merry was just a break to his everyday monotony—she was his personal fantasy—no matter how he looked at it, Merry couldn't fit in to Mello's and Mail's changed lives. They were criminals now, wanted by Kira and by the law, working in secrecy, while she was a spoiled heiress, entourage to celebrities. He slipped a letter under her door telling her to meet him in a small park in Shibuya, yet he planned to stand her up, in hopes that it would shatter her expectations towards him.

Mail quickly paced towards the fire escape door, walked down a flight of stairs, and felt paralyzed when he saw none other than Merry waiting for him in a flight below. The red-haired teenager remained awestruck and could not move when Merry began to slowly walk up the stairs. She seemed to be expecting some sort of harsh action in response, so she tilted her head with curiosity as she eyed him. The girl stopped one step below him and, without any warning or permission, gave him a reassuring hug.

"M-Merry…" Was all he could mutter in his surprise.

"I knew you wouldn't want to voluntarily meet… I didn't want to take my chances; I _wanted_ to see you again." The girl whispered shakily. She slowly let go of him, took his hand, and sat on the stair's step; Mail followed her actions and sat next to her.

After a while of silence, Merry then asked, "Tell me the truth: would you have agreed to meet somewhere?" Her watery eyes locked with his, but he had to look down in shame.

"I left a letter telling you to meet me in a park in Shibuya—I wasn't going to go; I was going to leave you waiting for me."

"Well that's cruel," Merry couldn't hide her bitter laugh.

Mail, now letting go of any plans he had made about forgetting her, simply gave in to the hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. He embraced her lithe figure in a hesitant, yet needy, hug, and allowed her scent to fill in his lungs as if he had once been addicted to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't have the courage," he said then looked at her in the eyes and told her with sincerity, "Thank you for being brave for the both of us, Merry."

She smiled and, without warning him, stole a kiss from him. Mail's heart fluttered when he felt her lips. He kissed her back, and it wasn't long before the teenagers decided on issuing unanswered questions. The reason Merry wasn't able to continue with her correspondence three years ago was because she didn't receive his letter that told her of his new address; when he joined the mafia. Merry wanted to know everything about Mello and Wammy's house, and she was disappointed to know that Mello did not show any interest in meeting her.

"How did you know I would be here?" Mail finally asked what was bothering him all this time.

"The hallways have surveillance cameras, silly. Besides, you always seemed to come around the same time of the day; I honestly didn't mind waiting for you."

The couple remained together, kissing and whispering sweet words to each other for a long time, though to them it seemed like it was for an instant. Merry hesitantly explained that she hardly knew Jessica London, but had to accompany her to places because her older brother, Carmelo, apparently had a growing affection to the woman, and wanted Merry to befriend her for him. The young women did not necessarily get along, but Jessica had paid for her trip, so Merry couldn't complain. Mail and Merry finally parted, but Merry made Mail promise that he would come back to her the next day.

--

And so for the remainder of the week, Mail returned to her hallway at the same time of the day, where they would meet. One day, he finally explained to her about keeping his identity secret because of his investigation, so she led him into her room, where she claimed they had complete privacy. Her room was wonderfully lit, decorated so that the furniture, bed, carpet, and ornaments matched; compared to his messy and broken down abode, this room was fit for royalty. "I see candy business is blooming…" Mail commented as he looked around.

She gave his hand a tender squeeze and explained, "I told you, Jessica is paying for it—not that candy business isn't blooming anyways!" Then she laughed with him. Merry led him to her bed and threw herself on top of the bed; she smiled and signaled him to do the same. "So how are the girlfriends?" The girl asked with a curious smile.

"That's a joke, right?" Mail rolled his eyes, not that she could see him, since they were both facing the ceiling.

"You're so beautiful, how could I possibly be the only one?" Merry rolled over to look him in the eyes.

Mail's face came closer to hers, then came the inevitable question in an attempt to change the topic, "Merry, how are the boyfriends?"

Merry blushed and decided to omit the question with a coy smile, "Nonexistent?" She laughed and Mail eventually laughed with her, but something churned within him. Again, she moved her body, only this time she kneeled on top of him, with each knee on either side of him and her hands placed on either side of his face, trapping him under her. "I missed having you with me, Matt," she said before leaning over his face and placing gentle kisses over his lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, then back again to his lips. Mail held her waist and she relaxed on top of him, finally sitting on his lower stomach. He felt his body tensing in response to her touch and something moved in his groin, and much to his embarrassment he could tell Merry felt it as well.

A deep shade of red settled on his face at her questioning look, "I'm sorry," said Mail as he tried to squirm away from her, but the hand she placed on his chest stopped him.

"It's alright, Matt," she reassured him with a sweet smile, she kissed him once again and murmured between locked lips, "You're all grown up now, right? I'm not a little girl anymore, and you're not a little boy anymore either." She moved her groin on top of him, and wiggled her hips, making him feel even tenser below her.

The red head let out quick sighs between her kisses; he felt as if his stomach was on fire and the fact that she was moving her hips so deliciously slow above him did not help at all. He could not think of a better to place to be right now; Merry's caresses were a hundred times better than the XXX videos that were waiting for him back in his small apartment. Under her, he felt inexperienced and submissive, but still openly welcomed her touch. He slowly slid his hands under her dress and onto her skin, letting his instincts take over his actions; the most wonderful part being that the girl above him never rejected him. As his hands trailed up, Merry moved away to assist him in slipping her dress off.

Mail felt his heart skip several beats at the sight of her nearly nude body, and the crimson blush in her face revealed her shy nature; Merry had indeed changed, but not as much as Mail had assumed. She offered him a tender smile before leaning down to his ear and whispering, "I think… I'm falling in love." Deep down, Mail knew he could wholeheartedly reciprocate her feelings, and now he had her, naked and vulnerable, all to himself.

* * *

**_Death Note, and it's characters, do not belong to me. This was made for leisure and nonprofit purposes only._**

* * *

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